


Fervour

by LadyCommanderKat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alive Starks, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dragons, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kings & Queens, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Nobility, POV Jaime, POV Multiple, POV Rhaegar Targaryen, Possessive Behavior, Prophetic Dreams, Rhaegar Lives, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 92,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCommanderKat/pseuds/LadyCommanderKat
Summary: Melelna has spent most of her life surrounded by the safety of the ancient Black Walls of Volantis. The old Valyrian blood in her veins had always run hot but when she sets foot on Westerosi soil and meets a certain prince, the awaking magic flowing through her body might become the key for the realm not to be stained red with blood.Meanwhile in King's Landing, war is brewing behind closed doors and the Prince of Dragonstone does all he can to ease the tension while struggling to make sense of cryptic dreams.Timeline: starts a few months before the Tourney at Harrenhal





	1. Short Prologue

_**Prologue** _

 

**_Volantis, 277 A.C._ **

Melelna dipped the tip of her brush into the small jar, coating it with scarlet paint. It was the first time she attempted to paint the creatures that haunted her dreams. The young girl let out a deep breath and allowed her hand to work freely over the canvas, staining it with red. Painting came naturally to her, like it did to her Lady Mother before her. When her mind could assemble the image, her fingers could bring it to life easily enough if she had the appropriate colours at her disposal.

But the image that started to take form in front of her, wasn't one that her mind had produced. Her mind couldn't produce such vivid images of creatures she's never come across—Creatures long forgotten in this world.

Melelna switched to a deeper red and started painting the details on beast's body, then his wings. She was about to paint his eyes when a knock interrupted her work.

The door of her bedchamber busted open and Vinar strode straight in, not bothering to wait for an invitation to enter her rooms.

Melelna scowled at her older brother. "Vinar! What if I was indecent? I'm not a child anymore!"

"You're always going to be a child to me, my little Mel." Her brother smiled before affectionately hauling her into his arms to plant a kiss on her forehead. Her anger eased at once—but then again, she'd never remained upset with Vinar for longer than a few minutes. Her brother had a special talent for sweet talking his way out of all their quarrels.

She felt him tense around her and Melelna lifted her chin to see what had changed her brother's playful mood. He was staring at the canvas, a thousand different emotions passing through his deep lilac eyes.

He released her and Melelna expected him to say something but her brother just kept standing there, silent, as if he'd forgotten she was in the room with him.

"Did you dream of him?" Vinar suddenly broke the silence but still didn't tear his gaze from the creature.

"Do you dream of them too, Vinar?" the young girl asked, her tone full of hope and excitement.

Her brother gave her a sad smile. "No, but our mother did. Maybe it's best if you don't tell Nyessos about this. Keep your paintings covered as well."

Melelna's expression faltered at the mention of their oldest brother and Vinar didn't miss the sudden change of her mood.

"He is grieving Melelna, give him some time. I'm certain Nyessos never meant to scare you," Vinar said, referring to Nyessos's latest outburst after finding her talking to one of the kitchen boys. "He is just overly protective of you. You know how you remind him of mother. Her death is still fresh in his heart. Give him some time to come to terms with it."

She'd tried telling Vinar that there was something wrong with their older brother. There's been something wrong with him since long before their mother's death but either Vinar didn't wish to believe her or Nyessos chose to reveal his true vile nature only when Melelna was around. Her father thought him to be the perfect son, worthy of the family legacy he was to inherit. She almost snorted at the thought. The only thing Nyessos deserved was a good beating, preferably by one of the slaves he liked to torment so much.

"We all lost her, Vinar. We all grieve," Melelna pressed.

Vinar sighed before pinning her with a sharp look. "I need you to make good with Nyessos. Especially now that it's only going to be the two of you until father comes back from Lys." His tone was serious now, all traces of playfulness and affection gone from his voice.

Melelna knew that Vinar meant well, she knew that he truly believed Nyessos would never hurt her but she wasn't so sure anymore. Her mother was found dead a fortnight before Melelna turned four and ten, but it's been five moons since then and Nyessos's moods only seemed to worsen with the passing days. She didn't want to think about the time she would have to spend alone with him until she had the safety of their father's presence. He was the only one Nyessos feared, the only one who could protect her from him now that Vinar was going to leave her side.

"Why can't you stay a few more days–at least until father comes back? Please Vinar, for me?" the girl begged, not for the first time since her brother announced that he would be joining the crew of one of her father's ships.

Vinar loved the sea and he loved seeing new places even more. His responsibilities at the Palace were minimal due to his status as second son, so their father made no protests when he asked to see the world.

His lips curved into an apologetic smile. "The ship is leaving on the morrow, Mel. You know I cannot delay the shipments for days without good reason."

Melelna's shoulders sagged in resignation. "Do you think father would ever let me come with? Or travel on my own ship, Vinar?" she asked, her every word coated with hope.

Vinar's expression softened and he gathered his sister back into his arms. "Father loves you very much. It shan't be easy to convince him to part with you. But Jaenys Vhassar is not an unreasonable man. Prove to him that you could survive on your own and you just might have a chance."

"How?" Melelna asked and then borrowed her face deeper into the crook of his arm.

"He taught you how to read the trade books and work the numbers. Take over some of his work and make him coin, Mel. If there is one thing father respects, it's one's ability to multiply coin. You're a clever girl, I'm sure you can get the hand of it in no time."

Melelna reared back and gave him a slow smile. He was always overestimating her abilities. But Vinar was right about their father and she'd ask him to give some of his work over to her as soon as he was back in Volantis. She only prayed she wouldn't see a lot of Nyessos while she was waiting for his return. She'd keep to her rooms and only walk the palace corridors when he was busy overseeing the shipments at the docks.

But deep in her heart Melelna knew that while she was doing everything in her power to avoid Nyessos, he would be doing everything in his to find her. 

       

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info about this fiction and Alternate Timeline:
> 
> • King Aerys Targaryen disapproved of the match with Princess Elia Martell so her marriage with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen never went through. Elia is happily married to ser Baelor Hightower and lives with him in Oldtown.
> 
> • Rhaegar's interest in Lyanna never developed so he never triggered Robert's rebellion by abducting her.
> 
> • Since Robert's rebellion never happened, all the Starks and anyone who'd died in that war are alive. This however does not mean that there will be no wars or political conflicts in this fiction. I have imagined my OC with a backstory and a set of additional OC's and circumstances that will slowly be revealed through the story and play a bigger part in the long run.
> 
> • Back to the Lyanna thing, to kill any speculations you guys may make while reading the story: Even though I love Rhaegar and Lyanna combo in canon, I have already read too many fics with RhaegarxOC where Rhaegar just ends up taking Lyanna anyway and the oc ends up heartbroken and alone. I don't see the point of taking the time to write another one. If i wanted to write such a story, I would write about RhaegarxElia. This is an AT where some things may come to pass as they did in canon but others may not happen at all or happen in a different way.
> 
> • Some characters may have been aged 1-3 years for the purposes of the story.
> 
> • Timeline: The main story starts a few months before the tourney at Harrenhal (early-ish 281 A.C.)


	2. Chapter I | Vipers in the sand

**_Dorne, 281 A.C._ **

Melelna quietly trailed the two dornish guards that were leading her and three of her own guards through the maze that was Sunspear. After a few minutes of navigating through the busy streets, she realized that they were headed towards one of the two towers that were visible even outside of the Old Palace's outer walls, looming over the rest of the castle.

The guards came to a halt directly in front of the tower's door and waited for the men guarding it to pull it open before glancing back and motioning for her to enter first.

The Volantene lady walked inside the tower, making sure to keep her shoulders straight and her chin high. The last thing she needed was for them to sense how worried she was. Not for herself, she was a noblewoman after all, but for her companions. The ones she left back at the docks. The dornish guards assured her that no one would bother them while she was speaking with their Prince and Melelna believed them. What worried her was that most of the people she brought with her, have never set foot outside Volantis and didn't speak a single word of the common tongue. She had to get this over with and return to them before one of the dornishmen at the docks decided that her Valyrian looking servant girls were too exotic to pass up and got his neck sliced open in the process. And she knew that it if any westerosi tried to enter her ship without permission, her guards wouldn't hesitate to stab before asking any questions. She should've left Amir with the crew but it was too late to send him back now.

Once inside, she was greeted by a dim staircase that appeared to circle around the tower. Melelna took a deep breath and started climbing the stairs with as much grace as she could muster, using the time she had until she was brought before the prince to recall everything she'd read about the Martells. She soon realized that this staircase led directly to the top floor since the only thing that could be seen on the dull pale walls was the occasional small window allowing some sunlight to stream inside the tight space. Not a single door or passageway came into view during her ascent.

After what felt like a thousand flights of stairs, she finally came to a stop in front of a set of curved, wooden doors. She glanced back at the dornish guards who were positioned directly behind her own three guards. One of the dornishmen walked to the doors and knocked. The twin doors both opened from inside producing a loud groan that almost made her flinch.

The guard who'd knocked walked in front of her and Melelna hastened after him until he stopped in front of a man who was settled on beautifully carved wooden chair. There was a second man in the room, standing directly next to the seated one.

_The seated one must be Doran_ , she thought.

Unfortunately for the Volantene lady, her knowledge of Westerosi nobility was limited at best. She'd learned some names and locations from the few books that she'd managed to find while preparing for the voyage but there wasn't enough time to learn details regarding the families.

In truth, Melelna could've waited a few more moons before making the trip. Even send for a maester and invite him within the Black Walls to teach her the Westerosi ways. But she didn't want to wait a few more moons. She  _couldn't_  wait. Her main concern was to get away from  _him_. Her father agreed to let her come to Westeros when the monster was in Lys. If she waited and he came back home before she was on the ship...well, she didn't want to think about how her oldest brother would react. Melelna had never dared to voice her wish to travel the world while in his presence. He would likely hurt Amir and promise to do it again the next time she requested to leave the "safety" of the black walls. So Melelna only took five days to plan the trip, as well as she could in the short time, and left—taking Amir with her.

_At least I can speak the common tongue_ , she thought. And she didn't even have to learn it. Melelna could speak Westerosi since she was old enough to talk. Courtesy of her nursemaid who'd spent more time with her when she was child, than her own mother had.

She gave the man who was on his feet a sideway glance and took in his appearance. He was tall and slender and with the traditional tanned colouring that was common for the dornish she'd seen so far. The way he stood dressed in his cream and golden robes, gave off a graceful impression. That was what Melelna thought until she noticed his obsidian eyes shamelessly ogling her.

The dress she wore was more on the modest side as far as Volantene gowns went. It fell loosely over her figure, keeping her shape hidden. And what the dress couldn't conceal, was hidden under the dark cape she wore fastened on her shoulders. But it seemed to matter little to this man, who appeared to look right through her layers as his gaze asserted her body. Finally, his eyes settled on her face, which was currently sending a scowl his way.

Melelna glanced back towards Doran and forced her lips to curl into a charming smile.

The guard who had led her here spoke first. "The lady's ship dropped anchor at Planky town, my prince. About two dozen armed guards were in the lady's company along with her crew and servants."

Doran nodded at the guard and turned his gaze to Melelna's direction. "And what is the lady's name?"

"I am Lady Melelna Vhassar of Volantis, my prince," she said before curtsying.

"Am I?" Doran questioned. When he saw the confusion in her eyes he added "Your Prince?"

Melelna forced another smile. "I am standing in your home, am I not?"

Her answer must've been to Doran's liking because she could see his features visibly relax. The other man, on Doran's left, was yet to move his gaze from her. There was curiosity in his eyes, curiosity and something else Melelna couldn't quite place. It was him who spoke next. "And what brings you to Dorne, Melelna of Volantis?"

"As I have already told your men when they approached us in Planky Town, this trip was a gift from my father for my eighteenth nameday," she explained for the tenth time that morning.

"You brought a large entourage with you lady Melelna, most of them armed to the teeth. You can't blame our men for wanting their Prince's permission before they allow you to roam freely in our lands," Dorian noted.

Melelna was about to assure him of her good intentions when the younger man started to approach towards her. He offered his hand and she felt Amir tense next to her but she ignored him. Amir was one of her shadows, sworn to her father to protect her even if they have to sacrifice their lives in the process. The shadows knew they were outnumbered, in a foreign land and practically at the mercy of the Martells, so it was no wonder they were anxious.

She placed her pale hand in his tanned one and the Dornishman brought it to his mouth, slightly bending his head. His lips lingered on her knuckles for a moment longer than she thought necessary and she sensed Amir shift closer to her side but the man didn't seem to pay him any mind. Doran however, didn't miss the movement and Melelna watched him as his eyes scanned the Shadow. Not that he could see much of Amir. He was dressed like the rest of her guards, long-sleeved, hooded tunics that came to mid-thigh over loose trousers and leather boots. Black from head to toe with their hoods always up. Only their hands and a small portion of the lower halve of their faces were visible to the world.

Dorian's eyes lingered on the two scabbards Amir wore hanging from the swordbelt around his waist, each holding a short-sword. The rest of her guard also carried similar dual wielding blades. The twin swords weren't their only weapons, but they were the only visible ones.

"I am Prince Oberyn Martell, younger brother of Prince Doran," the friendlier man said before reluctantly releasing her hand.

"I'm most pleased to meet you, Prince Oberyn." Melelna gave him a friendly smile and fought the urge to roll her eyes at the invitation he was clearly sending her way, then turned her gaze back to Doran. "I understand that my people being armed makes your own people nervous my prince, but I assure you we don't come with any malevolent intentions. You must understand, I am my father's only daughter. He may have permitted this trip but Westeros is a long way from home. He would never allow for me to come under-guarded."

"Your father is Jaenys Vhassar? Current ruling triarch?" Oberyn questioned.

Melelna nodded and the two men exchanged looks. "I must admit that it surprises me that you've heard of my father so far away from Volantis." And she really was surprised. She expected to have to explain who she was, subtly implying the power her father held in Volantis and then offer them some coin and merchandise from her ship for their hospitality, but it seemed Oberyn saved her the trouble.

"My brother has spent some of his younger years in Essos and so have I," Doran said. He didn't look like he wanted to elaborate on that statement and Melelna didn't mind his unwillingness to make unnecessary conversation. She only wished to settle this quickly so she can resume with her travels. She'd barely set foot on the planks in Planky town before dornish soldiers appeared and practically demanded that she follows them to Sunspear. There was also the matter of finding a place for her people to spend the night before dark. She wouldn't find accommodation for all of them but those that couldn't find rooms could sleep on the ship until she and Amir bought supplies for them to continue their journey on land.

"And what do you plan to do while in Westeros, lady Melelna?" Doran pressed.

"My father gave me a year before I have to return back home, my prince. I intent to learn as much as I can about this land and its history whist I'm here." Melelna paused, her lips breaking into a huge smile. "And I also intent to draw as much of it as I possibly can."

Oberyn, who hadn't returned to his brother side after introducing himself, looked intrigued by her statement. "You enjoy drawing, my lady?" he asked, obsidian eyes gleaming.

Melelna nodded her head at the young prince. "I mostly paint when I am back at home in Volantis but maintaining good paints on the road is too big a hassle, I'm afraid. Not that I enjoy drawing with chalk any less but I must admit that I sometimes do miss the liquid colours."

"How long do you intent to stay in Dorne, lady Vhassar?" Doran asked, not sharing his brother's interest in her hobby. The Prince wanted her gone as soon as possible, that much was clear. It was a good thing Melelna also wanted to leave Sunspear quickly, so she didn't take offense at his eagerness to rid himself of her.

"I intent to continue my travels on land. I will be leaving Dorne as soon as I buy the necessary supplies to travel, including horses and a carriage. The crew will stay with my ship until I return or send them word to sail for another port."

Melelna gestured for Aren and Belio to bring the wooden chest she had them carry from the ship. The men lowered it in front of Prince Doran's seat and began to unstrap the leather holding it tightly closed before two of the dornish guards cut in and took over opening the chest. She inwardly rolled her eyes at the mistrust. What did they expect her to have in the box? And what was she to do with it? Take over Sunspear with two dozen men and three servants?

The dornish guards removed the lid and walked back to their posts. The sunlight flowing in through the small windows made the gold and gems inside the chest sparkle like a thousand tiny rainbows.

"For any trouble my arrival to your home may have caused," Melelna explained before smiling politely at the older prince. She was getting really tired of this diplomacy game. Or maybe she was just getting really tired in general. She'd been at sea for almost a fortnight after their last stop and she truly didn't want to spend another night sleeping on the ship.

Doran inclined his head and gestured for some of his own guards to collect the chest. He still didn't appear to fully relax and Melelna wondered if she would make it out of this place before sunset.

Oberyn seemed to sense her unease and turned back to face his brother. "If you don't have any more questions for the lady, perhaps I could escort her to our guest quarters while the rest of her companions find rooms in the shadow city."

Melelna was confused by the younger prince's words and he must've seen it in her eyes because he elaborated. "You are a noble lady of Volantis. We couldn't possibly allow you to stay at an inn, especially now that your presence in Dorne was probably noted by those who saw you in Planky town."

_Only because your stupid guards couldn't help themselves_ , Melelna thought. She knew that Valyrian coloring was rarer on this side of the narrow sea but she hadn't expected every person they passed to be openly staring all the way from Planky town to the Tower of the Sun. Of course that wouldn't have been a problem if the guards didn't demand that she lowers her hood in front of the prying eyes of every person in Planky town.

"You are being most kind, my prince," Melelna said before giving the first smile she didn't need to force that day. She was irritated with him and his blunt flirting before even taking the time to ask for her name, but she really was grateful that they offered to accommodate her. Perhaps she could convince Oberyn to send someone to guide the rest of her people to the local inns. He did, after all, look eager to please her.

Doran stood and mumbled his wishes for a pleasant stay in Dorne before excusing himself from the tower, most of the guards leaving with him.

Oberyn also turned for the door and beckoned her to walk beside him. He stopped just when they were about to start descending the steps back to the bottom of the tower and turned to face Melelna. "The news of your arrival found us just when we were about to break our fast. Perhaps you could share a meal with me while the servants finish preparing the guest quarters for you, my lady?"

"Nothing would please me more, my prince," Melelna answered the dornishman before turning her gaze to Amir. "However, I would feel most comfortable if one of my guardsmen returns to the ship, and perhaps you could spare one of your own guards to point out the local inns to him?"

Oberyn gestured for one of the dornish men that remained with them to approach. "Does your guard speak the common tongue, my lady?" He asked while his gaze scanned Amir for the first time.

Melelna nodded before addressing Amir in high Valyrian. "Find rooms for as many of them as you can and make sure the rest are comfortable on the ship. Use some of the coin to buy fresh food as well. I want you to stay with the ship tonight." Amir looked ready to protest leaving her side for the whole night but she quickly continued before he could question her in front of the prince. "You are one of the few that speak the common tongue and our people know you are the one most dear to me. Your presence will assure them that all is well and they have naught to fear from the Dornish. Make sure to remind them that slavery is not permitted on this side of the narrow sea so the people will exchange coin with them regardless of the scars on their faces. Do you understand Amir?"

The shadow reluctantly nodded at his lady. The dornish guard started descending the stairs and Amir trailed after him, glancing back at Melelna one last time before the curved wall hid him from view.

Oberyn's gaze didn't leave Amir while Melelna was speaking, but if he noticed the shadow's near protest to obey her order or the familiarity in her tone, he didn't show of it.

The prince smiled and started descending the stairs. They walked side by side through the narrow alleys until they entered what she assumed was the Martell stronghold. After going through a few corridors inside the stronghold, the prince took a passageway that led to small private balcony that looked over the noisy old Palace.

He pulled a chair from the table that was stationed on the balcony and after helping Melelna on the seat, he settled on his own chair across from her.

"Did you enjoy your visit in Volantis, my prince?" Melelna asked, recalling Doran's earlier words.

Oberyn's lips broke into a mischievous grin. "Oh, I enjoyed my visit in Volantis very much lady Melelna. And please, call me Oberyn."

Melelna sensed that there was a hidden meaning behind his words but chose not to ask him to elaborate. Instead, she turned her attention to the glass that was placed in front of her. Another servant was placing plates full of some kind of tiny tart cakes on the table.

"Lemonsweet," the prince said, pointing at the glass.

Melelna raised the drink to her lips and took a small sip. She welcomed the coolness of the bittersweet water after spending so much of that morning under the dornish sun. Smiling at Oberyn, she put the glass back on the table. "Will you tell me of Dorne, Oberyn?"

Oberyn was happy to oblige to her request. The prince started telling her of the dornish history and how Sunspear and shadow city came to be built. He then proceeded to inform her of the dornish customs and traditions. She interrupted him a few times, her curiosity taking over and making her ask questions before thinking better of it. She soon came to understand the hidden meaning behind his "pleasant" time in Volantis. As it turns out, the young prince already had a few daughters, one of whom was born of a Volantene noblewoman. Melelna was surprised that this was the first she'd heard of this. News of such scandals couldn't easily stay hidden inside the black walls. She wondered who the girl was; chances were that Melelna knew her, at least by name. But she didn't ask, if he wanted her to know the name of his lover he would've already said it when he was speaking of his daughter.

"I must admit that I am impressed with the affection you have for your natural daughters," Melelna told the prince, giving him her true smile once more.

He explained to her that bastards in Dorne, even though couldn't inherit name, weren't looked down upon like it they were in the rest of Westeros.

The young lady found that she liked Dorne and its strange ways and she told as much to Oberyn. His eyes filled with pride at her comment about his home. They went on to discuss the northern parts of the continent and she noticed that Oberyn's knowledge went beyond what she would expect from a nobleman's education.

"Do you have a taste for reading books, Oberyn?" Melelna asked before biting into one of the small cakes.

"I do, my lady. I'm actually going back to Oldtown to continue my readings at the Citadel."

Melelna's eyes snapped to his at the mention of the Citadel. She heard so much about it. One of her father's visitors at the Palace was certain that the libraries at the citadel had more books than a person could read in one lifetime. And she liked books. Especially the kind of books she imagined they had at the Citadel. Tales of places Melelna has never seen or heard of, in a land so far away from the torment that Volantis turned out to become for her.

"Do you oft go to the Citadel?" Melelna asked, trying to conceal the excitement in her voice.

Oberyn must've noticed her enthusiasm because he gave her a boyish grin before telling her of his studies at the Citadel and confirming that the libraries indeed hold more books than any person could read in a lifetime.

"Why don't you visit the Citadel, my lady?" Oberyn asked.

"As you have probably noticed by now, my trip plans only extended to getting my ship, crew and entourage ready," Melelna dropped her gaze to her lap. "I'm not certain where I'm going next if I'm being honest," she confessed.

Oberyn's eyes softened. "Almost as if you were running," he observed.

He didn't make it sound like a question but instead gave her an opening to tell him more only if she wished to. Melelna appreciated his consideration because that was a story she couldn't tell anyone, especially someone she'd only just met. But she liked the young prince and for reasons she didn't truly understand yet, Melelna could feel that he had a gentle heart. So she give him part of her truth. "Not running, my prince. But I am a girl who's spent most of her life inside the Black Walls. And between you and me, I never really thought my father would allow me this trip. I still don't know what made him say 'yes' that day, when he has said 'no' so many times before, but I wasn't about to sit around and wait for him to change his mind."

Oberyn looked at her intently for a few moments and Melelna thought he was going to ask her to tell him more. "Come to Oldtown with me, Melelna. If your ship is big enough, you can buy some sand steeds in Dorne and take them with you. After you see the city and decide to move on, you can buy the rest of the supplies you need to continue your journey on land while leaving your ship and crew somewhere much more pleasant for them than Planky town," he said instead. "And besides, I have some pull in the Citadel you know, I could show you those libraries you seem so excited about," Oberyn playfully added before winking at her.

Melelna's eyes widened in surprise. He thought about everything and he was right, it was a good idea. She wondered if he would still be so helpful to her after he realized that she had no intention of sharing his bed.

"My prince," she started. "I would very much like to join your trip to Oldtown but I don't think it is proper to give you false impressions..." She hesitated, wondering how to explain without offending the prince but Oberyn seemed to understand her meaning.

"Oh, my lady, I never meant to imply that I expected anything more than your company during our time together. I would very much like it if you decided to give me more, I believe that much is clear, but I don't expect it," he said before giving her a mischievous smile.

Melelna blushed at his bluntness and Oberyn's smile broadened. "You can buy horses in Oldtown but if you want my advice, you should really buy at least a few sand steeds while in Dorne. There is no better horse breed in all of Westeros," Oberyn said, changing the subject.

Melelna appreciated the prince's attempt to ease her embarrassment. "Then you must show me the horses before we leave for Oldtown. My ship is large enough to carry at least a few horses above deck," she said, grinning at Dornishman.

Oberyn smiled back at her and promised to take her to see the horse breeders when she returns from visiting her ship the next morning. They talked about going to Oldtown some more and agreed to leave in three days since the trip was short and didn't need much planning.

A servant girl entered the room and announced that the lady's quarters were ready. Oberyn stood and offered Melelna his arm. She got on her feet and interlocked her arm with his, letting the young prince escort her to her chamber.

Melelna's smile didn't leave her lips for the whole way to her room.  _Dorne was a good choice after all_ , she decided. 

 


	3. Chapter II | News from the south

**_King’s Landing, 281 A.C._ **

Rhaegar was on his way to the library when the servant bumped into him, almost knocking him off his feet.

Arthur crouched and grabbed girl’s elbow, pulling her off the ground as if she weighted nothing at all. She mumbled her apologies to the prince but her gaze never left the floor.

Rhaegar tensed when he noticed how shaken the girl was, unable to keep her hands from trembling. He exchanged a questioning look with Arthur and then Oswell but neither of his Kingsguard appeared to have any idea of what was happening.

The girl suddenly reached into her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope—an envelope that was secured with the _Royal_ seal.

Rhaegar heard Arthur sigh next to him and the prince knew that his Kingsguard had also come to the conclusion that the distressed state of the girl was likely the result of a close unpleasant encounter with his father.

“His majesty wants to see you in the council chamber at once, your grace,” the girl murmured, extending a shaky arm with the envelope clutched between her fingers.

As soon as the paper was out of her hands, the girl turned and all but ran the opposite direction from him. This time it was Rhaegar who sighed. He was getting desperate. His father wasn’t getting any better and if his mother’s bruises were anything to go by, it was getting worse, much, much worse.

Rhaegar groaned in frustration–he didn’t have time for this–then he recalled what the girl had said and his eyebrows shot up. _The council chamber?_ His father didn’t attend a single council meeting in more than a year.

The prince unfolded the small piece of paper in his hand and recognized his father’s handwriting. The text repeated what the girl had said, not containing any clues regarding the reason of his father’s sudden council summoning.

“The council?” Arthur asked. “What sort of imaginary enemy did his jaded mind invent this time?”

Rhaegar grunted in response. Arthur was right. But the prince started moving toward the council chamber all the same, the two Kingsguard falling into step behind him. What choice did he have? When he was younger, there was a time that he truly believed his father loved him. And he still believed that _at the time_ , Aerys did. But that was a long time ago and now his father was a whole different breed of monster these days. The Prince of Dragonstone had no doubts that _the king_ would burn him, or anyone loyal him, if Rhaegar was careless enough to give him reason.

 _Patience,_ He thought. _The pieces are falling into place._

On the way to the other side of the red keep, Rhaegar thought about the dream he had the night before. He couldn’t go back to sleep afterwards, instead he paced in his room, trying to give meaning to the images that came to him in the darkness, well into the chilly hours of the morning.

The dreams were always the same—but different. There was always some detail, some voice that was different than the ones before, even if the scenery remained forever the same. The prince was convinced that there were hidden messages inside his dreams but he couldn’t make any more sense of them than he could make of his father’s madness.

The location he awoke at in his sleep was always the same. Standing in the dark cave alone and blind, until the hissing starts. Before _they_ appear. Rhaegar could only see their shadows, always being pulled from his dream before he could glimpse their forms. He used to be able to see them. Then those dreams abruptly stopped and the Dragons turned to shadows, never allowing the prince to touch them or look into their reptile eyes. _Until last night._

Last night he glimpsed scarlet scales reflecting the light of the torches on the cave’s walls—torches that were also unique to last night’s dream. And the voice felt closer, clearer. Whispering his name like a polite summoning. Rhaegar only wished he knew where it was he was being summoned to.

The prince halted in front of the council chamber’s entrance and gave ser Barristan Selmy─who guarded the tall doors─a nod of acknowledgment before entering the chamber. Arthur trailed after him while Oswell stayed at the outside with the older Knight.

His father was seated at the head of the Oakwood table but the council members were all standing behind their seats.

“Father.” Rhaegar said, inclining his head.

“Finally!” The king hissed. “How long did it take that useless girl to find you?”

“Is something amiss, your grace? You haven’t called a meeting in quite some time.” Rhaegar asked against his better judgment.

“Does the king really need to explain his reasons for calling for his servants, boy?” Aerys roared.

Rhaegar lowered his gaze. Nothing good could come from taunting Aerys in his current state. The prince took his usual seat at the table and gave the other men a quick glance. Most wore expressions of uncertainty and Rhaegar soon realized that they too didn’t know what the purpose of this meeting was.

Aerys finally gestured for the councillors to sit. “It has come to my attention that Lord Whent intends to hold a grand tourney in Harrenhal in two turns’ time.” The king stated in a bored tone.

No one dared to speak, waiting for the king’s feelings on the matter to be revealed before making their own opinions known.

Rhaegar hoped that his expression didn’t betray him. He tried to feign surprise at the news when in reality he knew about the tourney long before anyone else did. The prince held his breath and prayed that his father didn’t see it for what it really was.

“At first I was going to forbid it, but I’ve decided to allow it and also attend in person.” Aerys continued.

The lords’ gasps at the king’s words filled the room. Rhaegar himself was having a hard time concealing his surprise. The king was going to attend? He was leaving the Red Keep? 

 _What if he knows?_ The prince’s eyes clouded at the thought. _No, he couldn’t know. I’d already be ash if he did._

Some of the council members tried to change his father’s mind but Rhaegar knew better than to attempt that. If Aerys said he was going, then there was nothing any of these fools could say that would persuade him to stay.

When the rest of the men also came to the same conclusion, the conversation turned towards the direction of the Kingsguard spot that was currently unoccupied. Ser Gerold Hightower─Lord commander of the Kingsguard─started to name possible replacements for the late Ser Harlan Grandison, who had died in his sleep, but Aerys silenced him by raising a greying hand.

“I have already decided on a replacement,” Aerys said, his voice dripping malice.

When the king’s gaze turned towards Lord Tywin and he bared his teeth in a feral smile, Rhaegar knew that whatever came out of the king’s mouth next couldn’t bring anything but fresh trouble.

“I hear Ser Jaime is full of promise. Some even say he may come to surpass Ser Arthur, given the right training. And who better to teach the boy than the one who knighted him. Don’t you agree Tywin?” the king taunted.

“It pleases me greatly that you hold my son in such high regard, your grace.” The lord of Casterly Rock replied, inclining his head at the king.

“So it is settled then. The tournament presents the perfect opportunity to initiate Ser Jaime into the Kingsguard. He’ll remain in the capital and train unofficially until then.” Aerys concluded.

Every man in the room murmured their congratulations but Lord Tywin was barely holding his anger from showing on his features and the prince couldn’t blame him for it. Jaime was his heir. He heard the pride in the Lannister’s voice when he spoke of his son. And now the young man would spend the rest of his days trailing after kings and queens instead of taking his seat in Casterly Rock like was his birth-right.

“If there’s nothing else, your grace─“ Tywin made a move to stand but was interrupted by Varys, who spoke for the first time since the start of the unexpected meeting.

“There is one more matter that I would like to bring to the king’s attention.” The spider drawled.

Everybody was staring at the master of whisperers. Rhaegar wondered what the bald man had cooking this time. The king gestured for Varys to continue.

“My little birds are telling me that the Martells have a most interesting visitor.” The spider tittered. Rhaegar watched as his father tensed, no wonder already running a thousand different scenarios of how the Martells are planning his demise in his faulty mind.

The spider noticed the king’s unease and quickly continued. “My sources report nothing of a malevolent nature my king. The visitor appears to be a noblewoman from Volantis”

“And how is this of importance to the council?” the king snapped.

“The girl’s family holds great power within the black walls, my king. Her father is Jaenys Vhassar. The man has been getting re-elected as triarch for more than a decade.”

 _Within the black walls._ Rhaegar suddenly understood exactly where Varys was going with this. Only those who could trace their blood to old Valyria were allowed free entry inside the Black Walls of Volantis.

The spider opened his mouth to say more but the king must’ve realized where the conversation was heading too because he suddenly asked: “And this girl is unmarried?”

“Yes, your grace,” Varys continued. “Her family is one of those your cousin approached when he was searching for a bride for our beloved prince but the girl was betrothed to a Volantene young lord at the time, so her father didn’t pay Lord Steffon any mind.”

“And she is not betrothed anymore?” this time it was Lord Tywin who asked. The lord of Casterly Rock was no longer able to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Tywin still secretly hoped that the king would eventually wed the Prince of Dragonstone to his daughter. Everybody knew that. Even Rhaegar believed it would eventually come to pass if he was being honest with himself. After the king’s rejection of the Martell Princess, there just weren’t any valuable options left.

_Now however… there’s another option._

Rhaegar was impressed with the man. His every ambition and hope of family legacy in the royal books was being smashed right in front of his eyes, yet he still held it together─for the most part.

The prince turned his attention to Arthur. The Kingsguard’s expression betrayed nothing as his gaze was fixed on Tywin, but Rheagar knew his friend well enough to be able to read his eyes. There were traces of amusement in those lilac pools. The Targaryen Prince could not find any glee in the situation. Court was already a battleground. Kicking Tywin twice in one day could turn bloody for the crown. The Lannisters may not be kings anymore but Rhaegar knew damn well how cunning they could be. The lioness was only seventeen and she was already manipulating everyone at court. His mother knew, of course and Rhaegar did too. He had to find a way to repair the relationship of the Lannisters and the Crown before this mess got out of hand.

“Well?” the king snarled at Varys. “Answer the man. Is the girl still betrothed?”

“No, your grace. The young lord she meant to marry was murdered a little less than two years ago. Shortly after Steffon’s visit in Volantis,” The spider informed the council.

“That useless man. Always too early or too late. I was a fool to trust something of such importance to him.” The king hissed, then banged the table with his fist. Rhaegar could only watch as the other men started nodding their agreement.

“Lord Commander,” His father continued. “I want you to send Prince Lewyn to Dorne to retrieve the girl from his nephew.”  The king ordered, referring to another member of the Kingsguard who was the uncle of the ruling Prince of Dorne.

 _The poor girl is going to have the fright of her life._ Rhaegar thought.

The Lord Commander opened his mouth to reply to the king but Varys spoke over him. “Your Grace. If I may be so bold?”

The king nodded at the master of whisperers. Rhaegar was still oft surprised at how Varys always managed to stay in the king’s good favours after so long by his side. No one seemed to last more than a fortnight, at best, these days.

“If we force the girl’s cooperation, her father may view it as an insult and refuse the match. The man owns almost half the Volantene fleet and has enough coin to persuade the golden company to break their contract with Lys with a snap of his fingers. And then there’s the influence he has over the other Volantene lords…” The spider warned.

“Are you suggesting that this man could be an enemy to The Crown, lord Varys?” the king asked, paranoia dancing wildly in his eyes.

“No, my king. This man could be a friend, _a very good friend_ to the crown,” Varys assured the king. “With the tourney so close, we could send the sweet lady a royal invitation from our Prince, while we send a messenger to Essos to propose the match to her father. I hear that the girl bends the father to her will more oft than not. He gifted her the voyage to Westeros for her nameday, I hear.”

“And what would that achieve, _eunuch?_ ” Lord Tywin snapped.

Lord Varys smiled at the angry lord. “Jaenys Vhassar is the sort of man that will ask for his daughter’s consent before agreeing to the match, lord Tywin. The time the messenger would require to take the proposal and then, no wonder, deliver a message back to his daughter, could be used by Prince Rhaegar to court the girl at the tournament─”

“ _Court her?_ ” Rhaegar snapped, unable to hold his tongue. He instantly regretted it when his indigo eyes found those of his father. The beast was intrigued now. The prince inwardly groaned.

“Continue Lord Varys,” The king commanded, ignoring Rhaegar’s protest.

“I’m sure the Prince will succeed in convincing the Lady to return to King’s Landing with the royal party after the tournament’s end, and by then she will surely receive word from her father. We could have the wedding as soon as her father joins us in the capital, since he would surely want to attend the wedding of his beloved daughter.” Varys seemed to have the whole thing planned out already and Rhaegar wasn’t at all surprised. His father attending the tournament was bad enough. Having to take time to court the girl might ruin his plans altogether.

The king was watching his son like a hawk and the Prince could only pray that his expression didn’t falter.

“Prince Lewyn can deliver her the invitation for the tourney then,” King Aerys said.

“My little birds tell me that the girl plans to leave for Oldtown to visit the Citadel with Prince Oberyn. Perhaps the Kingsguard can meet her there instead,” Varys suggested.

“Prince Oberyn is traveling with the girl?” Lord Tywin asked, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes, it seems that the Dornish Prince is quite fond of the girl. Sadly for him, Lady Melelna doesn’t appear to return his affections.”

Rhaegar realized that this was the first time they said her name. _Melelna, Mel._

It was a beautiful name he supposed, and if Oberyn was infatuated with her, then she was surely easy on the eyes too.

 _This could be much worse_. He thought. _She can’t be worse than Cersei_. The Lannister girl was a joy to look at, to be sure, but way too ambitious and power hungry for his taste.

“Then I don’t want the Martell delivering the message!” The king snapped. “His nephew could convince him to act against The Crown’s best interests!”

“May I suggest Ser Arthur, your grace?” Varys cooed.

The spider’s words seemed to please the king, who turned his crazed eyes back to Rhaegar. “Yes! It’s your invitation he’s going to be delivering. Might as well be one of your Kingsguard that makes the journey.”

It was obvious to the Prince that his father was pleased to separate him from Arthur. He wanted to protest, to demand that they send someone else but he knew better than to oppose the king in front of so many prying eyes. Aerys would likely make an example of him by sending Oswell too. Therefore, the Prince swallowed his discomfort and gracefully inclined his head.

“It is settled then. Write the invitation in your own hand have Ser Arthur deliver it to the wench.” The king said before standing. The members of the Council also stood and so did Rhaegar. The men waited for the king to leave first, the Lord Commander dutifully trailing after him.

As soon as the king was gone, Rhaegar rushed out of the chamber. He needed to speak with Jon but he couldn’t go to him now. If anyone suspected what he had in store for the tourney, they would surely be watching him like snakes, waiting for a folly. He would have to do as his father bid him and find a way to fix his plans while entertaining the girl and keeping her oblivious to the danger she would be marrying into.

The prince buried the urge to go to his advisor and turned for his chambers instead.

 _What game are you playing, Varys?_ Was the Prince’s last thought before he sat down on his desk and began writing the letter.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

**_Dorne, 281 A.C._ **

True to his word, Oberyn was waiting outside her door shortly after the sun had risen that morning.

Melelna’s sleep was restless. She only got a couple of hours of shut eyes in between the dreams that kept her mind awake and her body sweating. When the skies started turning into oranges and pinks, announcing the rise of the sun, Melelna gave up on sleep altogether and called for two servant girls to draw her a bath.

An hour later, Melelna was standing in front of Prince Oberyn, dressed in a Dornish Gown that was delivered to her room during her bath. _A gift, from our prince._ The servant girl had said before she bowed and left.

“You do Dornish clothing wonders, my lady.” Oberyn seductively murmured before he gently took hold of Melelna’s hand to place a feathery kiss on her knuckle.

Melelna gracefully pulled her hand from the prince’s grip. “Thank you, Prince Oberyn. I must confess that I came to like Dornish clothing very much. It gives a girl a certain feeling off…freedom,” Melelna decided. “Do you think there is enough time for me to buy some more gowns similar to this one before we have to leave for Oldtown?”

Oberyn beamed at her. “I’m sure we can get some delivered to your ship before our departure.”

The violet-purple colour of the gown made the girl’s eyes stand out even more than they usually did. The sleeveless dress hugged tightly around the upper part of her body but fell loosely over her hips. One long slit on each side starting mid-thigh, giving her freedom to fight or run—if it ever came to it. She doubted any assassin would follow her across the narrow sea, but twice now she would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for Amir’s training. She wore black sandals on her feet and two golden bracelets on each forearm.

Melelna returned the Prince’s smile and they began walking to the stables. The young lady insisted to go to the docks first, before going to the horse breeders and Oberyn agreed to escort her.

At the stables, a boy pulled two horses forward before handing the reigns to Oberyn and running back to bring mounts for _the Shadows_.

Melelna took a moment to appreciate the two creatures in front of her. Both stood tall and proud. They weren’t the biggest horses Melelna ever saw, but they were the most elegant ones. One was black all around, like the night sky; its hair glimmering as if it was covered in stardust. The other one, reddish-orange with pale-cream coloured mane.

Oberyn handed Melelna the reigns of the black one and the girl couldn’t stop her fingers from running through the horse’s silken mane. The steed turned its head, giving her a friendly head-butt and Melelna couldn’t hold the chuckle from escaping her lips.

“It seems she likes you. What are you going to name her?” The prince asked.

Melelna’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “Name her?”

“One less horse you’ll have to buy. I chose this one for you. It seems that I have chosen well,” The prince announced and Melelna’s lips broke into a huge grin. Maybe under different circumstances she would’ve given Oberyn a shot. Is not like the man was hard on the eyes and he had his way with words. But just as soon as she started to consider it, her thoughts were interrupted by the memory of the last man Melelna welcomed to touched her body. Any warmth that Oberyn’s compliments brought to her cheeks was forcibly put out by memories of her betrothed’s cold and lifeless body; his throat slit open and his lips parted as if he was caught in an eternal silent scream.

She banished the dark images from her head and grabbed Oberyn’s hand. “Thank you Oberyn. Truly I─“

Oberyn silenced her by placing a finger on her lips. “My life took a boring turn this last year. I have a feeling you will keep it interesting.”

Melelna reminded the prince that all she could offer him was friendship but he only smirked before saying: “Is it so hard to believe that I simply enjoy your company, lady Melelna? Of course looking like that─” He said gesturing up and down Melelna’s figure. “makes it much more enjoyable to be your friend, but friendship is all that I ask for, nonetheless.”

Melelna’s blush returned. In that moment, the girl realized that flirting was part of Oberyn’s character. He didn’t do it to offend and he was always mindful not to make her too uncomfortable. Melelna concluded that she enjoyed the Prince’s company. He liked to talk and she liked to listen.

Oberyn helped her climb onto her horse, settling her sideways on the saddle before mounting his own steed.

Aren and Belio were also seated on twin pale brown horses with chestnut manes. The shadows were both wearing identical scowls that they sent towards Oberyn’s direction.

The thud of the horses’ hooves filled Melelna’s ears as the animals slowly trotted forward. The girl glanced towards Oberyn. She couldn’t stop the smile from surfacing on her lips. She was glad she met the prince and she wished her shadows would soon also feel the same.

**…**

Everyone but the crew─who chose to sleep on the ship─found rooms in the shadow city. Most had returned to the ship and Melelna scanned through the hooded men, trying to spot Amir.

“Did the dornish give you any trouble?” Came a familiar voice from behind her, speaking in high Valyrian.

Melelna turned and came face to face with the freedman. He’d lowered his hood. The shadow’s eyes were shining bright like amethysts under the Dornish sun. Their light violet shade, a mirror image of Melelna’s own. The girl sometimes wondered how her father never saw the resemblance. Amir was tan where Melelna was pale and his hair was midnight black in contrast to Melelna’s own silvery blonde. But the lady and her shadow shared the eyes of the mother who brought them both into this world. Jaenys Vhassar never really had the habit of looking into the eyes of slaves and for once in her life, Melelna was glad for that fact.

“I think I actually like it here. Maybe we could come back to Dorne one last time before sailing back to Essos.” Melelna playfully told her brother.

Amir didn’t look in the mood to jest with her. He gave a death glare towards Oberyn’s direction. “He’s too shameless. He flirts too much,” Her brother warned.

 “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Melelna chuckled. “He’s harmless, I’ve actually found myself enjoying his bluntness. I never have to wonder with him.”

Amir’s jaw clenched when Melelna told him that Oberyn would be sailing to Oldtown with them but he didn’t make any protests. Her brother looked relieved to be leaving this place.

After she’d announced their trip to Oldtown to the rest of her people, she and the Prince rode to the horse breeders, her brother shadowing them close behind. Oberyn chose five stallions for her and Amir payed the breeder in gold Volantene coin.

They’d returned to Sunspear by midday and the first thing Melelna did when she entered her chambers was to order another bath.

 _Two more days_. The girl thought, as she laid her head back on the copper tub. _Two more days ‘till we sail for the Citadel._

 

 


	4. Chapter III | White Knights with Pale Swords

 

**_Oldtown, 281 A.C._ **

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna and Oberyn had arrived in Oldtown late the night before. An Oldman dressed in black robes with a long chain─which appeared to be made of many different metals─approached them at the docks. Oberyn explained that this was one of the maesters and he was to escort them to the Citadel.

Melelna left her people at the ship with Aren and Belio in charge, only taking Amir with her to.

They gave them separate rooms on the same floor and for the most part, the people here took well to the Volantene. The only request the maesters had was that Melelna keeps her hooded cloak on and doesn’t wonder about unescorted. Especially in the parts of the library she wasn’t given access to. She didn’t take any offence at their mistrust. She was surprised they allowed her entry in any parts of the library if she was being honest with herself.

The girl was currently standing frozen in front of one of the entrances to said library. She’d taken only one step inside before she stilled and her mouth fell wide open.

Levels and levels and levels of shelfs were secured on the walls all around the large room. Every last one of them full of books. Melelna had never seen so many books at one place in her life.

_This is only a small part of the library?_

She heard a chuckle come from beside her and she turned to find Oberyn watching her with a grin on his mouth.

Melelna was snapped out of her haze. She uncomfortably cleared her throat before speaking. “So what section of the library are we in?”

“History section. I figured it would interest you.” The prince said, laugher still evident in his eyes.

“Are there any books about the dragons here?” Melelna blurted out and instantly regretted it.

Oberyn regarded her with interest. “I must admit I didn’t expect you to ask for those books for at least another day, and certainly not so bluntly. You surprise me once again Melelna.”

 _Again?_ Melelna was about to ask Oberyn what he meant by that, to give herself time and think of an excuse that explained her interest in dragons without mentioning her dreams; but the Prince only turned, pointing to a dark corner on the other side of the room.

“There.” He said. “There aren’t many left but I’ve found them interesting to say the least. There are some more of course, but those are in the Targaryen libraries.”

Melelna beamed at the Prince. She all but ran to the corner Oberyn had pointed at. Grateful that he once again chose not to pry.

The girl gathered as many books as she could fit in her arms and carried them to the large table Oberyn seated himself at, with his own stack of books.

She smiled at the prince before grabbing the book closest to her and taking the seat on the opposite side of the table.

For hours Melelna’s gaze stayed fixated on the pages. Only giving it a rest when Oberyn touched her shoulder and informed her that it was soon time for dinner.

The books were more about the dragon riders than the dragons themselves but the girl enjoyed them all the same. She thought of the dragon battles she’d read about during dinner and even discussed them with Oberyn.

They were still in her thoughts when her eyes shut that night but it wasn’t those dragons who’ve visited her in sleep. It was the scarlet beast Melelna had been familiar for years with.   

 

**_Arthur_ **

The Kingsguard knocked on Archmaester Walgrave’s door and hoped the Oldman would open before his presence at the Citadel was noted and this became much louder than it needed to be.

The door slowly opened with a groan and the small form of the Archmaester appeared through the crack. “Who are you?”  The maester asked, suspicion evident his voice.

Arthur slightly lowered his hood. “It’s Arthur. I’m here for the Prince. May I have a word with you, Archmaester?” The Kingsguard kept his voice calm and even, he’d already spooked the Oldman enough. He’d met him once before when Rhaegar visited the Citadel. The measter had helped the Prince locate a book they thought might shed some light on his complicated dreams but it was another dead end.

The Archmaester’s eyes widened for only a second before he concealed his shock and moved aside, allowing Arthur to walk into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“Prince Oberyn came to the Citadel with a woman a few days ago.” Arthur stated and waited for the Oldman to confirm that the girl was indeed here.

The Oldman nodded so Arthur continued: “I need to speak with her. In private. If I go to her chambers it might attract too much attention.”

“The girl spends at least three hours with Oberyn in the history section every day before dinner. They are alone for the most part since most apprentices return to their rooms by that time.” The maester said.

“I’ll be helping you carry some books to the history section before dinner then, Archmaester. Do you mind if I wait here in the meanwhile? I’m sure you understand that is best for everyone if my presence in the Citadel does not become public knowledge.” Arthur said before taking a seat on the wooden chair in the corner of the room.

The maester didn’t look happy to have him there but nodded nonetheless.

Arthur remained seated for hours, only standing a few times to stretch his legs. It was an hour before dinner when Archmaester Walgrave returned to his chambers to escort him to the girl.

The Kingsguard fell into step with the Oldman, keeping his gaze on his feet so his face remained concealed under his hood.

When they reached the library the knight gestured to the maester to stay at the door. Once inside, he scanned the area for any prying eyes but found none. It wasn’t just Oberyn and the girl in the room though. There was another man, standing a few feet behind the seat that the girl occupied on the large table. Arthur knew a guard when he saw one.

He couldn’t see much of the man behind the black clothes that helped him blend with the shadows of the room but Arthur caught the movement of his hand shifting closer to the pummel of his sword when the Kingsguard started approaching towards his mistress’s direction.

Arthur placed the books the maester had him carry on the table and lowered his hood.

Oberyn─who must’ve recognized him─loudly snapped his book closed making the girl let out a startled gasp. The prince gave her an apologetic smile before turning his gaze back to Arthur.

 “To what do we owe the honour of being in the presence of a _Kingsguard_?” Oberyn asked, not bothering to hide the dislike in his voice.

The girl’s eyes widened at the mention of Arthur’s status but she didn’t close her own book, nor did she turn her gaze towards the knight. She must’ve assumed he was here to see Oberyn.

Arthur sighed. It seems that Oberyn was still angry about the rejection of princess Elia as Rhaegar’s bride.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here to see Lady Melelna Vhassar on the behalf of Prince Rhaegar.” Arthur announced.

That had the girl closing her book and raising both eyebrows in surprise. She stared at Arthur before glancing at Oberyn, looking unsure of what to do.

“What business does Rhaegar have with her?” Oberyn pressed. The girl looked to be also waiting for an explanation for this visit.

Arthur reached inside his pocket and pulled out the envelope his Prince had given him.

“The Prince would like you to read this, Lady Melelna.” Arthur said before placing the envelope in front of the girl on the wooden table.

She stared at it for a few seconds. She looked up towards Arthur one last time before picking it up and breaking the royal seal. The lady’s gaze scanned the words for a few long moments. When she was finished reading it, she visibly swallowed and placed the envelope back on the table.

“Well? What does it say?” Oberyn asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

“The prince would like me to join him at the ‘tourney of Harrenhal’ that takes place in three fortnights.” The girl swallowed again, as if speaking the words took physical effort for her.

Oberyn let out a laugh. “We should be leaving soon then if we’re going to make it to Harrenhal in time.”

“You are also going to this tourney?” the girl asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yes. I had a raven come in last night from my brother. I was actually going to ask you to accompany me but it seems that the Dragon Prince has somehow beat me to it.” Oberyn said but his words didn’t sound bitter. If anything, the Dornishman sounded amused with the turn of events.

“What about my people? I can’t leave them all here.”

“How many people are in your company, my lady?” Arthur cut in.

“Twenty guards, three servant girls and the crew of my ship.” She told him.

“May I suggest you leave some of the guards with your ship and let the rest escort you to Harrenhal? I imagine most Lords will have a similarly sized escort.” The knight said.

She again stared on the paper in front of her before glancing towards her guard. They exchanged a few words in a language Arthur didn’t understand but assumed was high Valyrian.

Lady Melelna turned her gaze back to Arthur and reluctantly nodded her head. “Very well then. I guess I’m going to Harrenhal.” She said, giving him a weak smile.

Arthur was surprised with her reluctance. Every woman in Westeros would be shedding tears of joy for receiving an invitation from the Prince.

 _All but this one._ The knight thought.

Oberyn however, didn’t seem surprised. He kept his gaze glued on the girl with a gentle look in his eyes.

Arthur wondered if Varys was wrong and the girl was returning the Dornishman’s affections; but the knight didn’t spot any signs coming from the girl’s body language that indicated romantic feelings for the Dornish Prince. She only looked…haunted.

“I’ll be staying near the docks, my lady. I too am headed for Harrenhal so I’ll wait until you’re ready to depart and make the journey with you.” The Kingsguard said, making it clear in his tone that it wasn’t a request.

The girl must’ve gotten the message because she glared at him and only slightly nodded her agreement. “What is your name then? I suppose we should get to know each other if we’re going to be spending so much time together.”

“Ser Arthur Dayne, my lady. Member of King Aery’s Kingsguard.” Arthur said after straightening his shoulders. He heard Oberyn snort but ignored him. Everybody knew that Arthur’s loyalties lay with the Prince but he still technically served Aerys first.

The Volantene stood and offered him her hand. “Well it seems you already know who I am, Ser.”

Arthur placed a small kiss on her knuckle before quickly releasing her hand. “I’ll be at the inn near the docks, my lady. Come find me when you are ready to leave. I’m sure you understand it’s best if you keep our conversation to yourself.” The Knight said before inclining his head and turning towards the door.

 

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna pushed herself on top of a barrel and sat crossed legged, watching as her guards carried chests out of her cabin.

She’d only informed everyone about their ride to Harrenhal two days ago but Amir had already found and bought eight more horses and a carriage for the journey.

“So are we going to be calling you ‘princess’ soon, my lady?” Belio joked, earning him a smack on the back of his head by Amir.

“The man hasn’t even met her yet.” Amir snapped.

“This isn’t the first time the prince showed interest in Melelna, you know. Well not himself directly but still.” Aren said, causing everyone’s eyes to widen.

“Explain.” Melelna demanded.

“I remember a man coming to the Palace. I was still your father’s guard at the time so I was there when they talked. He said he was looking for a bride for Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne and asked if your father would consider a match between you and the Prince. It was before...” Aren let his gaze fall to the floor. “So your father turned him down and never spoke of it again. Nyessos was there too, he never told you?”

“No, he didn’t. Neither of them did.” Melelna answered, her eyes narrowed.

The girl had spent the last two days learning as much as she could find about Rhaegar. Most people sounded fond of him, their eyes shining as they talked about their “Silver Prince”.

The same couldn’t be said about the king. No one really said much when she asked and they quickly changed the subject. Even saying his name seem to make their eyes cloud with fear and Melena truly didn’t look forward to meeting him. Even Oberyn was hesitant to give her answers.

She was intrigued with Rhaegar though. If so many people talked about him with such admiration in their voices then there surely must be some truth in their words.  

“Well, it seems like he found you again, anyway.” Belio playfully said before tapping her nose.

“Belio...” Amir warned.

“What is your problem anyway? He is a bloody King in the making. She couldn’t get a better match if she tried. There _isn’t_ a better match. Not here and not in Essos. This is a good thing you fucking idiot.” Belio growled at Amir.

Her brother looked ready to push Belio off the deck so Melelna quickly jumped off her barrel and stood between the two men. “Amir is only worried for my safety is all.” She said before grabbing Amir’s forearm and dragging him to her cabin.

Once inside, the girl shut the door and turned to face her brother.

“I know you fear what he might do if he finds out but you need to keep your feelings to yourself. Especially when we arrive at Harrenhal.” She told the Shadow before affectionately linking her fingers with his.

Amir’s expression softened. “This is the Crown Prince we’re talking about, Mel. Not that his tittles are going to matter to Nyessos. If this turns bad; it might even mean war.”

She knew her brother was right, it wouldn’t matter to Nyessos. Nothing mattered to her oldest brother when it came to having his way─as he proved time and time again.

Belio and Aren knew her mother’s secret so they understood why Amir was sometimes overly protective of her. But they didn’t know her own secret. Only her bastard brother knew. Not even Vinar─her sane legitimate brother─believed her when she last saw him four years ago.

Amir didn’t need to believe her. He saw enough of the truth with his own two eyes and received his own share of Nyessos’s cruelty when their insane brother realized that she cared for her slave guard. And then that cursed day came…

“You should’ve let me kill him when I had the chance.” Amir growled, the shadow also remembering the morning he almost buried his blade in Nyessos’s throat.

Melelna tightened her grip around her brother’s fingers. “I would’ve lost you forever. Even if you got out of the Palace, I would still lose you. You would be banished, never to allowed to retu─“

“You’d be safe. Free of _him._ ” Amir interrupted before pulling his hand from hers and running it through his hair.

“Nothing is worth that price! What about mother? She risked her own life to keep you safe. To keep you close!” Melelna shouted at her brother.

Amir sighed and lowered his gaze to the floor. “The Dragon Prince sounds like a good man.” He said, changing the subject.

Melelna let out a breath of relief; glad of the change in their conversation’s direction. “You say it as if it’s a bad thing.”

Her brother’s gaze found hers. “Maybe… Maybe it’s time you stopped running from Nyessos.”

The girl sighed. “We don’t know that the Prince wants to marry me. He only invi─“

“Oh, please.” Amir snorted. “He was looking for a bride three years ago and he still haven’t found one. I’m surprised he isn’t taking you straight to the sept.”

Melelna giggled. “So does that mean you’ll behave?”

“Only if you promise to try and put your own wishes first. Just this once.” Her brother said before cupping her face in his hands and bending to place a kiss on her forehead.

**_~~~~~~~~~~_ **

 

The last of the chests were being loaded on the carriage. Melelna would normally worry about traveling with so much gold with her but she had no reason to worry today. Between her own guards and the men Oberyn brought with him from Dorne, they had a large enough party to scare away any group of road thieves.

 _And there’s also that Kingsguard_. The girl thought.

The man was presently sitting on top of his grey warhorse. With his black hood up, he looked like any other man of her guard. Amir’d given him one of his tunics since the two of them shared a similar built.

Her brother─surprisingly─liked Arthur. He heard that the Knight was the best swordsman in all of the Seven Kingdoms so Amir couldn’t wait to spar with him.

Melelna glanced towards the carriage. The last chest was loaded and they were practically ready to go. She’d already said her goodbyes to the crew and the men she was leaving to guard the ship. The girl was leaving them with enough gold to last them many moons if they were mindful of their spending.

_Where is Oberyn?_

Melelna hadn’t seen the Dornishman return to the docks after he left early in the morning. He said he’d be back before they were ready to depart but there was still no sign of him.

Just when she was about to send Amir to look for him, Oberyn appeared at the turn of the cobbled road. He noticed her looking at him so he gave her one of his charming smiles. Oberyn wasn’t alone however, there was a woman walking beside him.

Melelna took in the woman’s features. She was shorter than the Volantene lady. Her skin a shade similar to that of Oberyn’s and her hair falling down her back in thick dark waves. She wore a yellow sleeveless dress that looked a lot like the ones Melelna bought from Dorne and had an aura of elegance around her as she walked.

“Everyone ready to leave?” Oberyn asked when they reached Melelna.

“Yes, just waiting for you.” Melelna answered, returning his grin.

“This is my sister, Elia.” The Dornish Prince announced. “She was originally going to make the journey with us but it seems that my sweet sister is pregnant.”

Melelna’s eyes instantly went to the girl’s tummy.

“Oh, it doesn’t show yet.” The woman giggled and Melelna’s cheeks instantly flashed. It was rude to stare at a pregnant woman’s tummy. She gave Oberyn’s sister an apologetic smile and tried to hide her embarrassment.  

“I’ve heard so much about you Lady Melelna. I wish we had more time to be acquainted with one another.”  The woman continued. There was a sweetness to her voice that helped relax the Volantene.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Princess Elia. I too wish we had more time.” Melelna said before curtsying at the woman.

“Perhaps you could be my guest next time you visit Oldtown.” Elia said.

“My sister is married to Ser Baelor Hightower. The enormous tower in the middle of the port is her new home.” Oberyn explained before Melelna could ask.

The Volantene girl had seen the tower, it was the first thing she saw when their ship approached the stone city. It looked to be serving as both a castle and a lighthouse.

“It would be my pleasure to visit your new home, Princess.” Melelna told Elia, cupping her small delicate hand in-between both her own.

Elia smiled and turned back to her brother. They said their goodbyes and the Princess of Dorne gave Oberyn a kiss on the cheek before starting to make her way back up the road.

“She is truly the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. And I’m not only saying it because she’s my sister.” Oberyn said, still watching Elia’s retreating form.

“I believe you.” Melelna told Oberyn. And she really did believe him. There was way too much warmth in Elia’s smile for there to be any malice in her heart.

“Let’s leave then. I’m sure you can’t wait to meet the ‘Silver Prince’.” Oberyn teased before mounting his horse.

Melelna mounted her own horse. She’d ended up calling her _Midnight,_ which was fitting considering the animal was black from head to tail.

“You don’t sound very fond of him, should I be worried?” Melelna asked.

Oberyn chuckled. “No. You’ll probably be half in love with him by the end of the first day at the tourney. But…” The Dornishman paused, letting out a sigh. “Just be careful, okay? Around the rest of his family.”

Melelna understood that he his warning was about the King but knew better than to ask for more when they were surrounded by prying ears.

She nodded at Oberyn.

 “I’ll be careful. Let us be on our way then.” Melelna said before their horses started to slowly trot their way through the city.

 

**_~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_King’s Landing, 281 A.C._ **

**_Cersei_ **

Cersei watched her brother’s naked form as he slept next to her on the bed. She ran her finger on his back, tracing the line of his spine.

Jaime stirred a few times before opening his eyes. When his sleepy eyes found her watching him, he smiled.

“Good morning, brother.” Cersei purred. “You should get up before someone notices you didn’t sleep in your quarters.”

Her brother rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed. “Has the sun been up for long?”

“About two hours. Are you coming back tonight after dinner?” Cersei asked after pulling the sheets to cover her nakedness.

“I shouldn’t. I’m in your room too often. The servants notice. What if one of them tells father?” Jaime warned and got off the bed.

Cersei watched him stand in all his naked glory. Her gazed followed the lines of his hard muscles for only a moment before she found herself considering to invite him back to bed. He was a handsome man. Maybe the most handsome man in all of Westeros. The only one that could rival his looks was the Prince of Dragonstone himself.

“The servants know better than to tell father, even if they caught us with me on top of you.” She assured him. And she knew her words were true. The servants knew what kind of man her father was. He’d kill the fool who’d dare bring him the news, guaranteeing that they never again repeated the insult.

“Even so. We shouldn’t push our luck.” Her brother insisted while pulling his breeches on.

Jaime turned and pointed his sister a harsh look in his emerald eyes. “Or are you bored now that the Dragon Prince doesn’t share his evening walks with you anymore?”

Cersei glared at him. She was getting tired of his petty jealousies. Didn’t he understand that she did everything for him? If she married the Prince, she and her brother could stay together, under the same roof. She worked so hard to get that Kingsguard killed and subtly plant the seed in Aerys’s head. She would have the kingdom’s two most beautiful men by her side until the end of her days.

But Jaime was right. The prince didn’t share his walks with her anymore. Neither did he invite her to eat with him like he used to do once every a couple days. Cersei had to figure out what the problem was and fix it before all her plans came tumbling to the ground.

“Do you have to mock me? You know why I need him. Why _We_ need him. If I don’t marry the Pri─“

Cersei’s rant was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jaime rolled his eyes and crouched behind her desk, without having to be asked. He was her brother, but being seen in her rooms at this hour with Cersei still naked in the bed was bound to raise some eyebrows.

“Come in.” she ordered when Jaime was hidden from view.

A servant girl walked in the room, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Your Lord father wishes to see you in his chambers at the tower of the Hand, milady.” The girl mumbled.

“I know where my father’s chambers are!” Cersei snapped and the girl flinched before taking a step back.

Cersei rolled her eyes and waved her hand through the air, dismissing the servant.

“Do you have to be so rude to them?” Jaime asked, coming out from behind the desk, after the girl shut the door behind her.

“They are servants. They serve a purpose and it’s not to chat with us.” Cersei said in bored tone.

Jaime sighed and walked to the door, pulling it open. “Whatever you say, sweet sister. Go on then, father doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Was all he said before he walked out and pulled the door closed with a loud thud.

Cersei pushed the sheets off and got on her feet. She called for the servants to draw her bath and help her prepare herself for another long day at court. She’d try to find the Prince today and ask if she’d somehow offended him. She had to return in his good graces. She had to convince him to make her his future Queen.

She had a creeping feeling that Jaime knew why Rhaegar had suddenly lost interest in her but he denied any knowledge it when she asked.

After the servants scrubbed her clean and helped her into her gown, Cersei made her way to the Tower of the Hand.

The Lannister girl nodded at the two guards standing at her father’s door and one of them knocked before announcing her arrival to her father.

Cersei’s tensed at the image that greeted her inside. There were boxes everywhere, full of her father’s belongings. Why was he moving his things? Didn’t he like the room at the Tower?

“Daughter.” Came her father’s voice from her left.

Cersei turned and found him sitting behind his desk. He looked older. She only saw him last week but her father looked to have aged ten years in the few days that passed since then.

“Father.” She forced a smile. “Why are you moving your things? Are these chambers not to your liking anymore?”

Her father sighed. Tywin Lannister never sighed; and Cersei was sure she’d never seen him looking so glum before. Something must’ve gone terribly wrong to reduce her mighty father to this state.

“What’s the matter, father?” Cersei asked, keeping her voice guarded.

Tywin pushed off his chair came to stand in front of his daughter.

“We are going back home. Get the servants to gather your things. We live first thing in the morning.” He stated in what Cersei liked to call his ‘authoritative voice’.

Cersei’s eyes widened at his words. “Leave? We can’t leave. You are the hand of the king and what about the Prince? You said that he would make me his Queen. You said I had to get in his good gra─“

“I know what I said!” Tywin snapped.

“Then… Then why? Father I don’t understand.” And she really didn’t. Why would they leave? She knew he would be angry about Jaime joining the Kingsguard but she’d never thought he’d leave. And why was he taking her with him? She couldn’t seduce the Prince if she was locked inside a stupid Rock.

“The Prince is going to Harrenhal to meet his future bride.” Her father said, making Cersei’s gaze snap to his.

 _“What bride?”_ She growled.

“Some girl from Volantis. It doesn’t matter who she is. What matters is that your brother just lost his claim to Casterly Rock and I need to find a way to fix it while also looking to find you a husband.” Her father said, sounding desperate for the first time in years.

“Father please. Who is this girl? Why is she a better choice than me? You said there was no one better for the Prince to choose as a wife!” Cersei’s eyes started to burn and she knew she couldn’t keep her tears inside for much longer.

“There is no one better!” Her father snapped again. “And after that Baratheon barbarian was lost at sea, I thought they were done with Essos. But the damn girl had to go and cross the sea herself, practically throwing herself on Rhaegar’s lap.”

Cersei couldn’t allow this to happen. She’d worked too hard. The whole court was wrapped around her little finger and she was sure she’d been making progress with the Prince─at least before he’d started to avoid her. She couldn’t just leave it all behind, _leave Jaime behind_.

Cersei straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “He didn’t marry her yet. There is still time.” She said, trying to sound confident.

Her father shook his head but Cersei continued: “Let me go to Harrenhal with the royal party. Let me try one more time. Please father, not all is lost. At least not yet. But it will be if you force me to do nothing.”

Tywin looked thoughtful for a few moments before nodding at his daughter. “You’ll return to The Rock after the tournament and you’re taking a group of our own guards with you to Harrenhal so they can escort you back.”

Cersei smiled at her father. She’d mend her relationship with the Prince and she’d go all in this time.

_No Volantene whore is going to take what is rightfully mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think so far! This is my first fic so I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	5. Chapter IV | The Silver Prince

**_Melelna_ **

The first couple days were the hardest. Getting used to traveling long distances on horseback turned out to be much harder than Melelna ever thought possible. When Arthur said that they were stopping for the night she all but jumped off her horse; unable to hide her relief.

Luckily for Melelna, she’d brought her own breeches and tunics—identical to those of her personal guards—so at least she was comfortable when she sat cross-legged by the fire.

Amir had gotten his wish so Melelna watched as him and Arthur sparred a few feet away from her, both dual wielding short-swords. She knew that the Kingsguard carried a Greatsword but she only got glimpses of its hilt on his back on the road.

Melelna giggled when Arthur put Amir on his ass which was a mistake because her brother noticed and threw a death glare her way. The girl tried to hide her amusement but the way her brother’s cheeks heated only caused her laughter to become louder—turning some heads her way.

Amir pushed himself on his feet and walked towards where Melelna was seated near the fire.

“Let’s see how well _you_ can do then.” He said and then threw one of his swords by her feet. “You didn’t train with us since before we left Volantis. I don’t want you getting rusty, _my lady_.”

“You can use a sword, Lady Melelna?” Arthur asked, sounding intrigued.

“No, she can use two, like the rest of us. My lady used to train with us every morning back in Volantis on the orders of her Lord father.” Belio cut in.

The knight looked like he wanted to ask why a Lord would order his daughter to train with his guards but Melelna really didn’t want to have that conversation, not now—not ever. Her mother also had her personal guard, but got murdered in her own bathing chambers all the same. Her father had decided that the best way to keep his only daughter safe from _the tigers_ was to teach her how to defend herself.

“She used to be able to use two swords. We don’t know if that’s the case anymore, considering how long it’s been since she last trained. Let’s see how well she can do with one first.” Amir smirked.

“You really think I’ve forgotten so quickly?” Melelna scowled at her brother.

Amir quirked a brow at her. “I don’t know, did you?”

Melelna grabbed the sword off the earth and got on her feet. She launched at Amir who easily dodged before attacking back with his own sword. The girl could give a lot of these men a run for their life; but not Amir. He blocked and dodged her every move with ease but that was to be expected from her brother—he was the one who taught her those manoeuvres, after all. 

They danced around each other for what felt like hours. Melelna was panting, her tunic dump with sweat; but she refused to back down. Amir however, decided that she had enough so he stopped playing with her and ended their little game by extending one of his legs and tripping her—face first—on the ground.

Melelna wiped the dirt of her face and lifted her gaze up to glare at her brother.

Amir gave her an innocent smile before offering her his hand. “It seems like you haven’t forgotten, little sister. But I would still suggest that you train with us, at least once a week.” He kept his voice low so the onlookers didn’t hear him calling her his sister.

The girl accepted her brother’s hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She shook her head at him before grinning and ruffling his hair.

Melelna caught Arthur and Oberyn watching her interaction with Amir out of the corner of her eye. The two Westerosi stood side by side and were both regarding them with interest and a little confusion in their eyes. She knew how it looked. Some people even assumed Amir was her lover; but Melelna didn’t wish to treat her brother as an inferior anymore—especially so far away from her father.

She made her way back to her little spot by the fire and accepted a water canteen from Belio. Her sparring with Amir had completely drained her energy so when she heard her stomach growl, she sent one of her servant girls to fetch some dry cheese and bread from the carriage.

Arthur and Oberyn joined her by the fire and the Dornishman offered to teach her how to use a spear. Even though tempted by his offer, she didn’t think her muscles could take another beating so soon after Amir’s demonstration. She’d remind him of his offer the next time they stopped.

In the days that followed, Melelna fell into a little routine with the men. They would travel during the day and make camp when the sun went down. She’d ended up sparring with both the Westerosi Knights and she was impressed by how differently they fought, while still being equally deadly. She knew they held back with her but she got glimpses of their true skill when they fought each other.

By the end of their journey Amir was practically following Arthur around like a lost puppy; begging him to practice with him. Not that Amir wasn’t impressed with Oberyn but her brother didn’t take well to the Dornish Prince from the very first day and Amir rarely changed his opinion about people—especially those openly ogling his sister at every chance they get.   

It took them a little more than a month before the black walls of Harrenhal came into view.

Melelna’s throat tightened. She’d read about how the enormous castle acquired its dark colouring—courtesy of the Targaryen dragons during the conquest almost three hundred years ago.

As her party neared the castle, its massive gate opened and a rider came out, galloping towards them.

She felt her throat tightening even further so she glanced to Arthur who gave her a reassuring smile.

“I guess it’s time to meet the Prince. Don’t feel too bad if you find yourself unable to contain your awe. Most women fall in love with him before he even so much as looks to their direction.” Oberyn joked.  

Melelna chuckled and found herself relaxing at the Dornishman’s words. He always seemed to sense her unease and never failed to lighten her mood.

 _Time to meet the prince, indeed._ She thought.

**_~~~~~~~~_ **

**_Rhaegar_ **

The Prince of Dragonstone had reached Harrenhal two days ago. Most nobles had also arrived; only waiting for the last two major houses to make their appearance—the Starks and the Baratheons. The Martells were also still a no show, but they would arrive with the Volantene so Rhaegar wasn’t conserned with their absence.

He had hoped that he would talk with the Starks and his cousin—Robert Baratheon—before the tourney officially started but he would have to improvise. He needed the northerners and his cousin on his side if he was going to overthrow his father with as little bloodshed as possible.

First however, he needed to find a way to get rid of the Lannister girl who made it her life mission to “accidently” find herself in his path at every turn of the massive castle. She was turning out to be a bigger problem than his father—who didn’t so much as leave his chambers since they arrived.

“My Prince,” Came a purring female voice from behind him.

Rhaegar closed his eyes and tried to conceal the irritation that was surely showing in his face before turning to face the woman.

“Lady Cersei,” He forced a smile. “Didn’t think I’d see you in the stables.” In fact, he came to the stables because it looked like the one place Cersei had no interest in entering. Apparently, he was wrong.

“Oh, I heard some of the guards talking about how impressive your warhorse is, so I came to sneak a peek. I didn’t think anyone would be here so early in the morning.” She said before putting a hand on his arm.

 _Sure, you didn’t._ Rhaegar thought and fought the urge to roll his eyes.

He politely pulled away from her and forced another smile. “He’s in the last stable on the left, perhaps one of the stable boys can guide you inside.” He offered.

Cersei’s eyes filled with disappointment for only a second before she hid it and gave him a seductive smile, batting her eyelashes. “Maybe you coul—“

“Your Grace.” Oswell interrupted from the stable entrance, earning himself the evil eye from Cersei. “A large party appeared on the south road, about an hour from Harrenhal. They carry Martell banners so it must be Prince Oberyn with Lady Melelna.”

“Lady Melelna is traveling with Oberyn? I hear he is quite popular with the ladies…” Cersei left the rest of her words unspoken but her meaning was clear.

“Well, apparently not this one.” Rhaegar said in a calm voice before turning to face his Kingsguard. “Send a rider to escort them inside the castle. Let your brother know as well since I’m sure Lord Whent is going to want to be there to receive them.”

Rhaegar gave Cersei an apologetic smile. “It seems I’m needed elsewhere, my lady.”

“Perhaps I could join you, my prince? I would also like to meet lady Melelna.” Cersei quickly asked when he started walking in the direction of the stable exit.

The Prince inwardly groaned but nodded nonetheless.

**_~_ **

To Rhaegar’s surprise, his father had also come out of his rooms to greet the lady. He stood to Rhaegar’s right side while Cersei took the spot on his left. Lord and lady Whent along with their five children were waiting to meet her on his father’s other side.

The prince watched as riders started to appear through the castle gates but the girl was still nowhere to be seen.

Finally she entered atop a black dornish steed that looked more like a warhorse than a lady’s mount.

When he turned his attention to her features, he stilled. She was sitting sideways on the saddle, wearing a simple dornish dress that made him suck in a breath. The hair around her face was pinned behind her head while the rest of her silver locks fell gracefully around her shoulders. She was more beautiful than Rhaegar had ever hoped she would be; definitely the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d kiss Varys if he was here.

The girl’s horse came to a stop and a hooded man—that looked to be one of her personal guard—helped her dismount.

She started walking towards them and Arthur fell into step beside her. Rhaegar was relieved to finally have his friend back.

When she stood directly in front of them, she gave a glance to his direction before quickly averting her gaze to his father.

The lady curtsied before addressing the King in high Valyrian: “I’m most honoured to be in your presence, your Grace.” She kept her voice gentle, as if she was speaking to a wild animal—careful not to spook it.

 _This one caught up fast._ The prince thought.

His father seemed to approve of her choice of words and the use of their mother-tongue because he caught her little hand and placed a kiss on her knuckle.

Rhaegar saw her tense when the king’s pale mouth touched her skin but she quickly recovered, giving him an elegant smile.

His father gave her a few words of welcome before making his way back to his rooms; not bothering to wait for the rest of the introductions.

Lord and Lady Whent spoke next, introducing themselves and their children.

Melelna turned her attention to the Prince and Rhaegar found himself lost in the depths of her amethyst eyes. Their shade was a much lighter lilac than his own, sparkling under the morning sun. She was looking at him expectantly and when he heard Arthur clearing his throat; he realized that he hadn’t yet introduced himself.

“Prince Rhaegar of house Targaryen. Charmed, my lady.” He said and took grasp of her hand. He gently rubbed the spot that his father had kissed before bringing it to his lips.

Melelna’s cheeks turned rosy red. “I’ve heard so much about you, my Prince. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Rhaegar gave her a genuine smile. “All good I hope.”

“Of course, your Grace,” She said, lowering her gaze.

“It’s so good to finally have you with us, lady Melelna,” Came Cersei’s voice from beside the Prince. He’d almost forgotten that she was there.

Melelna looked at Cersei, who had shifted closer to Rhaegar. She glanced between her and the Prince before she spoke: “I’m sorry, my lady; but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“This is lady Cersei of house Lannister,” Arthur offered.

“Pleasure to meet you, lady Cersei.” Melelna gave Cersei a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Cersei opened her mouth to say more but Rhaegar spoke over her. “I’m sure you are tired of your journey, lady Melelna. Would you allow me to escort to the champers lady Whent had prepared for you?”

“You are being most kind, my prince. The journey had its toll, if I’m being honest,” Melelna said before turning her gaze to Cersei. “I’m sure we can get acquainted with one another at a later time, lady Cersei.”

Cersei reluctantly inclined her head. “Of course. I hope you have a pleasant stay in Harrenhal, lady Melelna,” She said before walking away; but the Price could see in her eyes that she didn’t mean a single one of those words.

Rhaegar offered his arm and turned towards the Kingspyre Tower—which was where lady Whent had chosen to accommodate Melelna. “Shall we?”

Their short walk to her chambers was mostly quiet. Rhaegar was still coming down from the shock of seeing her; so when he tried to think of ways to make conversation, he came up blank. But the Prince wasn’t worried. He’d have plenty of opportunities to get to know the beautiful lady Melelna, starting with tonight at the feast. However, he’d send her a new dress to wear. As much as he enjoyed her in Dornish clothing, he suddenly hated the possibility that her dress might have been a gift from the Dornish Prince. 

**_~~~~~~~~_ **

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna was half asleep in the bath that the castle servants had drawn for her when she was snapped out of her peaceful state by a loud knock on the door.

She quickly jumped out of the bath and threw on her robe before opening the door. An older woman and a young girl stood outside, the latter holding a large wooden box.

“We are here to help you get ready for the feast, milady,” the older one said.

She had half a mind to dismiss them and send for her own servants but she could use this opportunity gather information about the attendants of the tourney; especially that woman who was with the Prince. Melelna wondered if she was his mistress, but if he was half the man people seemed to think he is; well surely he wouldn’t bring his mistress with him to greet her.

She smiled and stepped aside to let them pass. Once they were inside, she pointed at the box. “What’s in there?” She asked. 

“A gift from the Prince, milady.” The younger of the two offered before she placed it and on the bed and removed the lid. The older woman took over, slowly pulling a silken gown out of the box and carefully laying it on the bed. It didn’t look to be nearly as comfortable as the dornish dresses and there was absolutely no way Melelna could put it on by herself but it was stunning. Blood red with short, off the shoulder sleeves and golden details worked upon the low neckline.

“It is quite beautiful, milady. I’m sure every man with a pulse will have a hard time taking his eyes off you tonight.” The older woman said, making Melelna blush.

“Oh, I’m sure there will be plenty of beautiful women at the feast.” The Volantene said before taking a seat on the short wooden stool by the looking glass; then realizing the opportunity that was offered she continued: “I’ve already met lady Cersei shortly after arriving. Such a lovely girl.”

“Oh yes, lady Cersei is considered one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom, milady,” The younger girl said before grapping Melelna’s hair brush to start working on her dump silver locks.

“Will you tell me about her, dear?” She gently asked the girl.

The hand the servant was running through Melelna’s hair stilled for a few moments so the Volantene lady glanced in the looking glass; the two women behind her were exchanging concerned looks.

“Lady Cersei is the only daughter of Lord Tywin Lannister, milady. Her father was the hand of the king until recently and she lived with him at court for the last few years.” It was the older woman who spoke, her voice slightly trembling.

“I see. So she must surely be close with the Prince, if they live under the same roof.” Melelna tried to coat her voice with indifference.

“We wouldn’t know, milady,” the woman said.

Melelna decided not to push for more. The two women already looked like they wanted to flee out of the room and that alone gave the Volantene more information than she hoped to acquire from the servants about Cersei.

She let them fix her hair and style it up, pinned behind her head with only a couple silver locks falling around her face; which left her shoulders bear. They then helped her into the gown and by the time they were done pulling on the strings of its corset, Melelna was sure she would asphyxiated to death long before she made it to the feast. She had to keep her breaths small out of fear that her chest would spill out of the low neckline if she filled it with too much air.

The two women stood next to her by the looking glass and looked at her with pride in their eyes. Melelna thanked them for their help; which appeared to surprise them, and then called for Amir to escort her to the feast.

“Do you know how many men I’m going to have to murder tonight if you go out looking like that?” Her brother whined.

“Amir…” Melelna warned.

Her brother sighed but then gave her a sweet smile. “You are beautiful, sister. Both inside and out. Rhaegar will do well to appreciate the gift that’s been given to him or I’ll have to start with him.”

“Do not jest about killing the Crown Prince. What if someone hears?” she quietly scolded before pulling the door open, almost walking straight into the armoured chest of a man.

He had his fist raised, looking like he was about to knock.  The man was dressed in all white scaled plate with a long white cloak fastened on his shoulders. She’d seen three more men dressed in identical amour when she’d arrived. _Kingsguard._ She wondered if Arthur would also be wearing his official gear tonight.

“Lady Melelna,” The man said after lowering his hand. “I’m here to escort you to the Great Hall.”

“Oh, uh… that’s very considerate of the Prince but I would like to also bring my own guard, uh...Ser..?” she’d assumed that all the members of the Kingsguard were knights.

“Barristan Selmy, my lady,” he provided. “I assure you that no one would dare harm you in the presence of the Kingsguard.”

“Ser Barristan,” she began. “Amir has been by my side everywhere I made a public appearance at since I was fifteen. I would be most grateful if that didn’t change tonight. I’m sure the Prince would understand.” And Melelna truly hoped he would. She needed a friendly face among so many unfamiliar ones.

The knight’s gaze examined Amir’s figure. “He can come, but he needs to lower his hood.”

Melelna nodded and gestured to Amir to uncover his head. Her brother complied and they both followed Ser Barristan down the stairs of the tower and then through the yard; until they stood outside the tall wooden doors of the Great Hall.

The guards that ware posted outside pulled the door open and the stillness of the quite night was filled by the music coming from inside. She realized that she was one of the last ones to arrive at the Great feast.

She followed the Kingsguard inside and she had a difficult time keeping her expression pleasant as they walked by the full tables, making their way straight to the raised platform where the royal family was seated. Everybody was staring at her. And it wasn’t just the men. It seems everyone was curious about the foreign royal guest.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to the other side of the room. She scanned the faces on the table and only recognized the Prince. The King’s seat was empty next to him.

Rhaegar stood up from his seat and walked to her. He’d dressed in a black formal tunic which had a red three headed dragon stitched to one side of his chest; and with that silver hair framing his face; he stood out among the rest of the men. “You look lovely, my lady. I see that the gown was an excellent choice,” He said while his gaze roamed over her, making Melelna blush.

“Thank you, my Prince,” she said before giving him a graceful curtsy.

He offered her his hand and led her to an empty seat on the long table, beside a red headed man.

Melelna spotted Arthur standing by the wall behind them. She almost didn’t recognize the Knight at first glance. The white armour gave him a unique handsomeness, making him appear equal parts enchanting and deadly. When his gaze found hers, he lifted his chin in greeting, along with a curve of his lips. She grinned back at him and then lowered herself on her seat.

Rhaegar took the chair on her left. “This is Lord Jon Connington, my good friend and advisor,” Rhaegar said motioning to the man on her other side. “Jon, this is Lady Melelna Vhassar of Volantis.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, lady Melelna,” The man gave her a small smile but his eyes looked bored.

“Likewise, my lord.” The lady took notice of how bright the shade of his hair was; she’d never seen such a fiery red colour before.

She turned her attention back to Rhaegar and found him looking at Amir; who had positioned himself a few feet away from Arthur. “Amir is my personal guard,” She offered. “My father assigned him that position at my request as a gift for my fifteenth nameday.”

“ _He is a slave?”_ Jon asked in a harsh tone.

“ _Amir is no slave!_ ” Melelna snapped at him. “I won’t pretend that owning slaves is uncommon in Volantis, my lord. But none of my companions are slaves. They might have started their lives in slavery but I have since freed them and I can assure you that I pay them fair wages.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to offend,” He began. “It was rude of me to assume.”

He really did sound regretful so Melelna gave him a nod and replaced the frown on her face with a small smile. He wasn’t completely unjustified to make the assumption, she supposed. She came from a city that had five slaves for every freedman, after all. “You didn’t offend, Lord Connington. I confess that my father does own quite a large number of slaves but he’s allowed me to do as I wish with those under my command.”

“And you wished to free them?” Rhaegar asked. Melelna didn’t fail to notice the hint of approval in his voice.

“A slave could never respect his master, fear him yes, but not respect him. Why would they risk their lives for someone they don’t respect? My family has more than enough coin to pay their wages and besides, many of my companions were previously serving under my mother. She was the first to free slaves in our family and started paying them wages instead.”

“Your mother sounds like a great woman,” the Prince said.

A sad smile appeared on Melelna’s lips. “Yes, she was.” _The greatest woman I’ve ever met._

The music changed to a slower melody then, and Lord Whent’s daughter accompanied by one of her brothers walked to the empty space between the royal platform and the rest of the tables. They started moving to the song and soon more couples joined them on the dance floor.

Rhaegar stood and offered Melelna his hand. “Will you dance with me, lady Melelna?”

Melelna beamed at the Prince before linking the fingers of one hand with his and letting him lead her to the dance floor. When he stopped amid the other couples, he wrapped his other arm around her waist. Resting his palm on the small of her back, he pulled her closer to his chest

Rhaegar lowered his head and brought his lips next to her ear. “I’m glad you came to Westeros, Melelna,” he whispered as he began to slowly guide their dance.

It took all of Melelna’s willpower not to shiver from the feel of his warm breath tickling her ear. The smallfolk were right: the Prince _was_ the most handsome man in in the seven kingdoms. But it wasn’t just his indigo eyes and distinctive silver hair that made women lose their hearts at first glance. There was an aura around him, radiating elegance with a small hint of gloominess that made them want to nourish him, the girl decided.

 _“You'll probably be half in love with him by the end of the first day at the tourney,”_ Melelna recalled Oberyn’s words and a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Rhaegar noticed and pulled his head back to at her face. “What amuses you, my lady?”

Melelna’s cheeks flashed in embarrassment. “Oh, it’s nothing, it’s just something that Oberyn had said,” she mumbled, causing Rhaegar’s grip to tighten around her waist.

“Something Oberyn had said,” he repeated in a tranquil tone; but there was annoyance in those indigo eyes.

Melelna tried to think of a lie since she wasn’t about to tell him that she laughed because of the accuracy of the Dornishman’s prediction of her reaction to him; but, to her relief, she was saved by the stop of the music.

Rhaegar lingered for a few seconds before he pulled away from her and they started walking back to their seats; but they’d made it only half the way to the table before the subject of the Dragon Prince’s irritation blocked in their path.  

“Prince Rhaegar,” Oberyn grinned at the Prince. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I steal Melelna for the next song.”

“No, of course not,” Rhaegar said before turning gaze to Melelna. “I’ll wait for you back at the table,” He continued, giving her a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ll see you back at the table,” Melelna agreed and then took hold of the Dornishman’s extended hand.

**_~~~~~~~~_ **

**_Rhaegar_ **

Rhaegar sat back down on his chair and brought his wine goblet to his lips. He closed his eyes and swallowed a deep gulp; only to find Arthur sitting on Melelna’s chair next him when he snapped them back open. There was amusement dancing in the Kingsguard’s eyes.

“Thirsty?” the Knight chuckled.

Rhaegar glanced towards where Melelna was dancing with Oberyn. The Prince of Dorne was whispering something in her air, then the girl threw her head back and cheerfully laughed. The Prince of Dragonstone drank more of his wine. “Very,” Was the only thing he said.

“You know Oberyn is only doing it to get this exact reaction from you, yes?” Arthur asked, at this point barely containing his laugher.

“Well it’s working!” Rhaegar snapped, recalling the familiarity in her voice when she said the Dornishman’s name. He’d never felt possessive over a woman before. Especially one he’d only just met. He didn’t know what was causing him to react to her like that and he didn’t care to explore the reasons. He only knew that he wanted her away from the Viper and back to her seat by his side.

“I’ve watched them every day for more than a month. I’m sure that if there was something there, I would’ve noticed.” Arthur assured him.

Rhaegar let out a deep breath and averted his gaze from the girl. “I have bigger things to worry over tonight. Did Oswell do what was asked of him?”

Arthur’s expression turned serious. “Yes, Your cousin and the Stark heir are going to be waiting for you in Robert’s tent after the end of the feast.” The Knight paused and glanced towards the table that the two Lords were seated at; shouting and drinking like madmen. “Do you really think that those two will be able to have such a serious conversation after all that wine?”

The Prince had hoped to speak with lord Rickard directly but the heir would have to do. He’d meet with more of the Lords during the tourney but with his father here; he couldn’t risk gathering them all on the same night. “They better be, I’m out of patience tonight,” Rhaegar said and looked back to Melelna. His anger eased when the song came to an end and her gaze locked with his. She gave him a delightful smile before she started making her way back to the platform.

“I’m going to find my sister, I want her to meet Melelna.” Arthur said and got up from the lady’s seat when he also noticed her returning.

Rhaegar nodded. Lady Ashara was a good woman, he supposed; kind and always with a genuine smile on her lips. She’d make a good friend for Melelna if the two of them can get along.

Melelna sat on her chair and finished her own wine, then beamed up at him. “I’ve never been to such a grand feast before. We barely had any guests coming to the Palace, and the nobles in Volantis hate each other too much to ever all gather in one place.”

Rhaegar’s mood lightened by her enthusiasm. “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, Melelna.” He decided to stop using formalities when he addressed her and encouraged her to do the same. If all went well, they’d be married soon. The Prince needed to speak with her about the proposal; let her know that they’d already sent a messenger to her father. She appeared to enjoy his company, however, and accepted his invitation to the tourney so Rhaegar didn’t concern himself about her feelings on the matter. He had no doubt she knew what this was all about but he still needed to have the discussion with her.

Arthur returned with his sister and after the knight introduced her to Melelna; Jon offered his seat to Lady Ashara so the two women could get familiar with one another. Rhaegar grasped the opportunity to study the Volantene while she was distracted with Ashara. Her eyes shone brightly when she laughed and the wine had given a rosy taint to her cheeks. Unlike most of the women he knew, her words were unfiltered and her expressions true. He wondered if she would survive court, especially if he succeeded with what he’d planned.

A rush of guilt tightened his chest. For the first time that night, Rhaegar deliberated about postponing their marriage; but he quickly dismissed the thought. She was already seen with him, every person in the room must’ve realized how infatuated he was with her—it was too late now, if he became a target she’d become one right along with him.

The Prince sighed deeply and silently prayed that he’d succeed in shielding her from the storm that was to start unfolding, come morning.


	6. Chapter V | Soiled Cloaks

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna’s head was spinning by the end of the night so when Rhaegar offered to walk her back to her rooms, she was relieved. It wasn’t just the wine that was turning her brain into mush. _It was the Prince_

The girl turned on her other side on the bed, then changed position again. When she realized that her mind wouldn’t allow her sleep anytime soon; she threw the covers off and got on her feet. She hastily dressed in a simple linen gown and donned her hooded cloak before walking to the door.

She needed to clear her head, perhaps talk with Amir. He was the only one who knew her situation and those involved well enough to give solid council.

 She really liked the Prince. He was charming and polite; with a face that looked like it was shaped by the Lyseni love goddess’s own hands. And most of all: Melelna could feel that he could come to care for her, even love her. But… But would he still want her if he knew about her past? About the problems that she might lead straight to his doorstep? What if she got her hopes up only for him to lose interest when he discovered the truth? Or worse…What if he didn’t lose interest and he was met with the same fate as the last man she was betrothed to did?

Melelna let out a deep breath and pulled the door open. Amir stood outside, a solid figure by the stone wall.

“Couldn’t find sleep?” Her brother stepped closer to her. 

“No, I want to take a walk and then find somewhere quiet to sort my thoughts. Walk with me?”

Amir leaned in to pull her hood up, covering her silver hair. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the castle walls at this hour. Perhaps we could go to the stables to see _midnight_? I don’t imagine anyone being there in the middle of the night.”

Melelna nodded and strode down the dimly lit corridor, letting her legs carry her while she lost herself in her thoughts. What if she was worrying for naught? Perhaps this was a blessing from the Gods. Rhaegar was the Crown Prince—a future King. Her father would surely approve and she would live on the other side of the Narrow Sea, far away from Nyessos. Is Nyessos arrogant enough to try and harm someone of such an important status? Risking making a whole continent the enemy of their family in the process?

 _Of course he is, there are no limits to his wickedness_. A voice whispered inside her head, making Melelna shiver.

They neared midnight’s stable door and the mare peeked her head outside, as if sensing them to approach. Melelna gently stroked the animal’s neck, murmuring words of affection. She’d come to care about the horse in the days that they’d spent together on their way to Harrenhal. How could she not bond with it when it gazed at her with those large intelligent eyes and sensed her moods better than those close to her could?

A noise came from Melelna’s left, causing her hand to still on the mare. She saw Amir grip the hilts of his swords in alarm, but he instantly released them when the sound came again and it was clear that it was a feminine giggle.

Melelna’s gaze scanned the space around her and noticed that the door of the stable next to that of _Midnight_ stood ajar. The giggle came again but this time it was followed by a man’s voice. Their voices were too low for Melelna to make out their words but it was obvious that she was intruding on something private so she took a step towards the exit, gesturing to Amir to do the same.

She barely made it three feet when a woman rushed out of the stable, still laughing and talking to whoever was inside. When the girl’s gaze found Melelna, her smile instantly died on her lips; her eyes going so wide, Melelna thought they might burst out of their sockets.

Melelna took in her features and recognized the girl. _Lady Ashara from the feast, Arthur’s sister._

The girl gazed back inside the stable, then to Melelna, then inside the stable again. She began to slightly shake in panic so Melelna opened her mouth to assure her that she wasn’t going to mention seeing her to anyone, but the sound of heavy boots behind her caused her to snap her mouth shut.

Both women jerked their heads towards the direction of the new noise and soon, white plate started to appear in the shadows, as a man approached.  Ashara paled when it was plain that the man nearing was one of the Kingsguard and Melelna could very well understand why.

She quickly shifted closer to Ashara and turned to face the Knight. When he was close enough to the torch so that she could make out his face, she realized he was the same man who had escorted her to the feast.

“Ser Barristan,” She greeted as if nothing was amiss.

The man looked between her and Ashara, his gaze lingering on the Dornish girl. “Lady Melelna. Lady Ashara” His eyes narrowed and Ashara visibly swallowed. “What are you doing in the stables unescorted so late in the night?”

“We are not unescorted.” Melelna corrected him, pointing at the dark corner Amir stood at. “I couldn’t find sleep and neither could lady Ashara, so when I saw light in her tent, I asked if she would come visit my horse with me. She was kind enough to accept.” She lied.  

Ashara’s gaze snapped to hers, the girl’s eyes slightly widening before she recovered and forced a smile. Melelna needed her to quit shaking like a leaf if they were to pull this off.

Ser Barristan gave the Volantene a look that said “I don’t believe a word you just said” but nodded his head at her words. “I see. I would escort you back to your rooms if you wish, my ladies.”

“That would be very kind of you Ser Barristan but my tent is just outside the gate.” Ashara mumbled before turning on her heel and bolting out of the stables.

The knight’s eyes followed her as she retreated, and Melelna could swear she saw hurt and despair dancing in them before they hardened.

“What about you, lady Melelna? Would you like me to escort you back to your rooms?” he asked; his tone calm—even if he looked as if someone had just sliced his chest wide open.

Melelna didn’t need him to escort her but she remembered that whoever Lady Ashara was with, was still inside that stable so she accepted his offer—the man could leave unseen when she led away the Kingsguard.

Their walk back to her chambers was filled with uncomfortable silence. She glanced up at the Kingsguard next to her a few times and found his face unreadable but she was sure that she hadn’t imagined what she glimpsed in his eyes when he gazed at Ashara. She heard that the Kingsguard were supposed to stay celibate while serving their King but Melelna knew damn well that you couldn’t just order a man to close his heart.

Melelna gave him a gentle smile when they reached her door. “Thank you for escorting me Ser, it was very kind of you.”

He nodded his head at her. “Have a good night, Lady Melelna,” Was all he said before turning and walking back towards the tower’s stairs.

Melelna would try and find Ashara on the stands tomorrow. The girl seemed sweet and kind; and besides, the Volantene could use a female companion in this strange place—the only other woman who seemed interested in getting to know Melelna was Cersei but the Lady had no doubts that Lady Cersei’s offer for friendship didn’t come out of the good of her heart.

**_~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_Rhaegar_ **

Rhaegar left Robert’s tent relatively satisfied with the progress he made with the two Lords. Brandon was much more difficult than Robert—who already despised the King for sending his parents to their deaths—but the heir to Winterfell proposed an idea that would make Rhaegar’s plans much easier to execute. The young Lord couldn’t pledge his loyalty without the consent of his father but the Prince could see that he wanted to. It was a long shot trusting them with details of the horrors that occur at court, but it paid off. There were, of course, promises for future friendship and alliances that would benefit greatly both the Starks and the Baratheons, but it was a small price to pay if it meant he could have their support. Brandon suggested that he sends an official invitation to his wedding with Lady Catelyn at court. The chances that the King would want to attend the wedding in person were slim and Rhaegar was sure he could find some way to go in his stead. There, he could speak with Lord Rickard and try to persuade the Tullys as well.   

“That went much better than we hoped it would.” Arthur said when they reached the Prince’s chamber.

Rhaegar sighed deeply. “Yes. Let’s just hope that we can maintain peace at court in the time between now and the Wedding.”

“And your own wedding? Do you think it’s going to occur before the Stark’s?”

Rhaegar undoubtedly wanted it to. The Stark wedding was still a few moons away, which gave them enough time to plan the wedding in King’s Landing if Melelna’s father accepted the match. “It depends on her father. If he negotiates the match and we have to exchange massagers, well there won’t be enough time.”

A knock sounded from the door and Arthur opened it. Ser Barristan walked inside the chamber with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Your Grace.” The knight gave Rhaegar respectful bow.

“Is something amiss?” The prince asked, wondering why Ser Barristan was visiting him at such a late hour.

“No… Not exactly, your Grace. I have just escorted Lady Melelna to her room. I found her at the stables.”

Rhaegar tensed. “She was at the stables? Alone in the middle of the night?”

“No, not alone…” The Kingsguard hesitated and glanced towards Arthur. At that moment, Rhaegar realized that Ser Barristan hadn’t looked at Arthur since coming in, not even when he opened the door for him. 

The Prince’s main concern however, was that the Kingsguard just told him that Melelna was at the stables in the middle of the night _not alone_. “ _Who was she with_?” Rhaegar snapped, jaw clenching.

“No! Nothing like that, your Grace. She wasn’t with a man.” The older Knight quickly assured the Prince when he heard the jealousy in his tone. “Well she was with her guard but she has that one with her all the time. It’s just that…” He hesitated again, his gaze avoiding Arthur. “Lady Ashara was there too.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “My sister was with Lady Melelna in the stables?”

“Lady Melelna said that she couldn’t find sleep and that Lady Ashara was kind enough to walk with her.”

“But you don’t believe her.” Arthur stated, his eyes narrowing.

“No, I don’t. In fact I don’t think they even arrived at the stables together. You see… The reason I went to the stables is that I saw a man and a woman sneaking inside from afar. I couldn’t make them out from so far away but the girl had long dark hair and wore a yellow gown…” Ser Barristan lowered his eyes to the floor and Arthur loudly cursed—most likely recalling that his sister wore a yellow gown at the feast.

“Did you see who the man was?” Arthur demanded.

“No, I think he was still there when I left but I couldn’t look for him without shaming Lady Ashara.”

Arthur rubbed warily at his temples. “And no one else saw?”

“Lady Melelna must’ve seen them but she acted as if nothing was amiss. Ashara was easier to read,” Barristan gave Arthur a sympathetic look. “She was practically shaking when she saw me.” He reluctantly informed them.

“Melelna won’t shame my sister.” Arthur announced and it was clear in his tone he truly believed that she wouldn’t speak a word of this. “I’ll talk with Ashara tomorrow, let’s not mention it again.”

Rhaegar was amazed that Melelna had lied to a Kingsguard’s face for Ashara’s sake, only a few hours after meeting the dornish girl. But what shocked him even more was the respect and informality in his Kingsguard’s voice when he spoke of her. It was the first time Arthur referred to her without using her tittle and Rhaegar wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He knew that his Kingsguard had spent a whole month on the road with her so it was natural that they were close—and the same could be said about Oberyn–but Rhaegar still hated that they were familiar with her and he was not. Of course, the rational part of his mind was reminding him that he’d only just met the girl today; but the knowledge that she would soon become his wife made him want to warn away every other man—to his surprise, even his friend. Dragons weren’t known for their rationality after all.

**_~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_Jaime_ **

Jaime woke long before sunrise on the tourney’s opening day. He was to join the Kingsguard today, pledge his life to the King until the end of his days. He never told his father as much, but he was proud of himself. He might have been his heir, but most of all he was a Knight—and the greatest Knights served in the Kingsguard. Then of course, there was the fact that he didn’t have to choose a wife anymore so he didn’t have to worry about keeping his future bride safe from his sister.

He loved Cersei—no—he adored Cersei. She was the other half of him and if he had his way he would marry her instead; but his sister was a wicked woman. It didn’t matter who his father forced him to marry. He’d only care for Cersei and he had no doubts that his sister would find a way to torment his wife, no matter how highborn she was. Jaime was glad he didn’t have to condemn some poor girl to a loveless marriage and a hateful new sister.

He got out of bed, dressed and walked to the table on which his armour pieces were laid out. A small smile appeared on his lips. The scaled plate was polished, gleaming under the candle light.

 In that moment, the entrance of his tent flapped and Ser Arthur walked inside. “I thought you might need some help putting on your armour, kid.”

Jaime’s eyes lightened up. “Yes. Thank you, Ser.”  Jaime truly admired the sword of the morning, he’d never seen another knight as chivalrous as him. It was a blessing of the Gods that he could train with him.

Jaime’s smile widened and he picked up his bracers while Ser Arthur helped him don his chestplate and pauldrons; then his legplates, his gauntlets, and finally his boots.

Soon he was standing outside by the stands, all in white, waiting to be called under the Royal box. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him—especially his sister’s, who was settled on one of the rows closer to the top with smug expression on her face.

The young knight averted his gaze to the Royal box. The King was seated on his chair with a sour look in his eyes; but the Prince was tall on his legs. Rhaegar had the Volantene girl with him and didn’t seem to be able to tear his gaze from her, or his hands for that matter. The Prince was trying to be subtle about it but the message he was sending to every male watching was clear. Jaime couldn’t truly blame the man if he was being honest. The girl was a true beauty—not that he would dare admit to Cersei as much—and even if rumour was that she was to be Rhaegar’s bride, the men weren’t at all shy with their crude leers. She’d worn a sky-blue dornish dress similar to the one she had on when she’d arrived. The colour made her light violet eyes appear almost pink. She’d turned her gaze to him then and when she found his eyes watching her she gave him a faint, shy smile. _Sweet girl, too sweet for her own good if she intends to survive with this lot_ , Jaime thought.

Jaime’s attention shifted to the Lord Commander who had just called him forth. The young Knight straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin before making his way to Ser Gerold’s side.

The Lannister knelt next to the Lord Commander and repeated his oaths of devotion to the King. When he swore to maintain chastity, his gaze automatically found Cersei on the stands but he quickly averted it back to the floor. Finally, Ser Gerold secured the white cloak under his pauldrons and Jaime rose, letting it fall proud down his back.

Cheers filled his ears, coming from the mouths of nobles and smallfolk both. Jaime stood taller on his feet. He’d join the lists with the others and show them his skill. Young as he was, he knew he could best most of these men with both sword and lance.

Only, when he asked permission from the King to do as such, Aerys only gave him a feral snarl. “Your responsibility is not to entertain, boy” The king hissed. “You are returning to King’s Landing at once, to protect your Queen.”

Jaime ground his teeth but reluctantly nodded at his King. “Of course, your Grace.”

He kept his gaze straight ahead as he retreated towards his tent. He didn’t wish to see the sympathy that was surely on display in the eyes of the onlookers. He didn’t want their pity, he was a Lannister of Casterly Rock—and as of then minutes ago, a member of the Kingsguard. He didn’t need silly lance games to prove his worth.

He grabbed a linen bag and hastily started throwing his things inside. He’d only take what he didn’t trust to leave with the servants and have the rest delivered to him when the royal party returned.

“You would leave without saying goodbye to me?” Came a familiar voice from his back. His ill temper must’ve affected his instincts—he hadn’t even heard Cersei come in.

He turned and faced his sister. “Haven’t you heard the King? I need to leave _at once_.” His last words came out as a snarl. Queen Rhaella didn’t need immediate guarding. She was perfectly safe inside the Red Keep’s walls along with Prince Viserys.

Cersei shifted closer and took hold of both his hands, causing him to drop the bag. She stared into his eyes and Jaime immediately tensed. She had that look in her eye—the same look she had the day she asked him to join the Kingsguard. “The Prince doesn’t want me Jaime. Father is going to order me to marry some Lord who’s going to lock me in some keep far away from King’s Landing.”

Jaime’s eyes hardened and he jerked his hands out of her grip. “You want me to soothe you because Rhaegar doesn’t want to bed you?” he growled.

Cersei scowled at him. “Do you still not see? You joined the Kingsguard so we could be together! If Rhaegar marries that Valyrian whore, then you and I will live our lives apart, only to see each other once a decade at some wedding or some feast!”

She was correct in her assessment but Jaime couldn’t find it in his heart to want the union of his sister and the Prince. How could he wish for any man to bed the woman he loved?

Jaime sighed in resignation. “What do you want Cersei? For me to tell you how superior your beauty is and that the Prince is a fool not to want you? What good will that do?”

His sister’s gaze pinned his own, determination making her emerald eyes bright like wildfire. “I want you to help me fix the problem. I _need_ you to complete our plans.”

He arched a brow at his sister. He didn’t like where this was going. What did she expect him to do? Bed the girl so the Prince thinks her a whore? Rhaegar would execute him on the spot for touching her. If his sister’s endgame was for his head to roll, then it was an excellent plan.

“Kill her.” Cersei stated simply, her voice perfectly calm.

Jaime’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “Have you gone completely mad? You want me to kill the Prince’s bride?”

“Let them see you leave and then circle back. No one is going to suspect you. Do it Jaime. _Kill her for us_.” Cersei begged him; tears now falling down her rosy cheeks.

Jaime’s mouth opened but he couldn’t form any words. Was she truly asking him to murder an innocent girl in cold blood? He hated to see Cersei like this; he’d normally do anything to soothe her hurt, but this…Could he really bring himself to do such a horrid thing?

“Cersei…” He began, not really sure what to say, but she silenced him by getting on her tiptoes and bringing her mouth on his. It was a gentle caress of lips, full of slow seduction. He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her flush against his chestpiece, deepening their kiss. He’d missed touching her as he pleased on the days they’d spent on the road.

His sister pulled back from him and pushed against his chest. “If you don’t do this, that kiss might be the last one we share for years—maybe forever.” She said after he released her. “You need to do this Jaime. You need to let go of your morality this once.”

Jaime’s hands curled into fists. He didn’t want to lose her; that much was true. The thought of Cersei somewhere far away in some Lord’s bed tightened his chest. She was right: there wasn’t another way, he’d have to share her with the Prince. He hardened his heart and nodded at his sister. “I’ll do it. I’ll kill the girl.”

**…**

Jaime did as Cersei had suggested. He galloped half a day’s ride towards King’s Landing and then circled back. He left his horse a safe distance away from Harrenhal and dressed in old, peasant clothes and a hooded cloak to conceal his head. With all the commotion from the tourney, getting back inside the castle undetected was easy enough. Spotting the girl however, proved to be a whole different matter.

He’s couldn’t find her in her chamber and Jaime saw the Prince, alone, at the main yard. This castle was too damn big for him to search every room and corridor for her but it was late in the day, getting dark. She was bound to return to her room sometime soon. So that’s where Jaime waited. He sneaked inside her room, using a connecting balcony from an unoccupied chamber, and concealed himself in the shadows of a darkened corner.

He stood, unmoving, at his spot until the chamber’s door opened and the girl walked in with her guard. She was laughing at something the man had said and Jaime’s stomach twisted with guilt. He blinked his reluctance away and patiently waited for her to dismiss the guard—if he fought him or she had time to scream, the whole castle would be on his heels. He needed this to be quiet and quick.

Lady Melelna finally sent away the man and turned her back to Jaime before she started to take off her dress. He took a few silent steps towards her direction until he stood directly behind the girl. Jaime used one arm to lock her against his chest and the other to cover her mouth and nose. He couldn’t bring himself to mark her skin if he could help it, preferred to leave her unscarred in death. _Murder is murder regardless of how you do it, you hypocrite_. The boy in his head whispered. He wondered if the boy would still be there on the morrow, he supposed not.

She squirmed and kicked her legs like a feral animal, trying to break free but it was no use. Jaime’s hold was too tight for a little thing like her. He held her firmly against his chest until her muffled screams quieted down and her body went limp in his arms. She was still alive, he knew. He only needed to keep her airways blocked for a little longer and she’d be gone— _dead_. Jaime’s hand over her mouth quivered at the thought.

Before his mind registered his movement, he released his hold on her and she started to fall. Jaime quickly caught her arms and let her head gently drop against the floor. He stared at her, unblinkingly, for a long moment—he had his knife in his boot, he could still slice her neck open, get this over with.

He unsheathed the blade and touched it to her pulse. His hand stilled, as if he no longer had control of it. The memory of Ser Arthur knighting him flashed through his head, then that of Ser Gerold giving him his white cloak. He instantly jerked the knife back. Jaime shook his head. He couldn’t stoop so low, not even for the woman he loved.

The Knife must’ve pierced her skin where it had touched her because a thin line of blood trailed down to her collarbone. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered before ripping a piece of his cloak and tying the cloth around her neck; to ease the bleeding of the shallow cut.

Jaime got on his feet and left the same way he came in. It will hurt to live without Cersei. It will be the hardest thing he’s ever done. But he couldn’t disgrace himself like this— _betray his Prince and sworn brothers like this_. His sister would have to forgive him because Jaime was certain that if he had taken that lovely girl’s life… He wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

**_~~~~~~~~~~_ **

**_Rhaegar_ **

Rhaegar rushed down the castle corridors, making his way to Melelna’s room. Every possible scenario that resulted in her death, running through his head. When Arthur stomped into his chamber and informed him that she was found unconscious on the ground with blood covering her neck, he also assured the Prince that there wasn’t any danger to her life anymore. But it mattered little how many times his friend had repeated himself; Rhaegar had to see for himself. Make sure she was still breathing. One day he had her by his side— _just one_ —and someone had already tried to take her from him. Rhaegar’s jaw clenched. They all thought him civilized, the perfect Prince. It seems they forgot that he too shared the dragon blood. He might not share his father’s eagerness to kill everyone he so much as suspected a traitor but if they thought that whoever had touched Melelna would walk away from this with his head still attached to his shoulders…Well they were dead wrong.

He pushed her door open and came to halt by her bed. She was laid out on top of the covers, her head resting on the pillows and a bloody bandage around her neck. She looked peaceful in sleep, he supposed, and other than her neck and a few light bruises on her upper arms, she seemed unhurt.

Rhaegar relaxed the slightest bit and let his gaze move from the girl. He immediately noticed the man standing on the other side of the bed. He was openly glaring at the prince, his gaze unflinching.

“Do you want to say something to me…what was it that she called you? Shadow?” Rhaegar asked him, returning his glare.

“This is your fault!” The man spat, making Rhaegar’s eyes widen in surprise. The Shadow had some courage talking to the heir to the Iron Throne in that tone. Even so, the Prince couldn’t find it in himself to punish him for it—for he blamed himself too.

Arthur quickly paced through the room and patted the shadow’s back. “This is Amir,” He said, giving the man a harsh look. “He’s the one who found her on the floor. You’ll forgive him if his distress is making him forgetful of who he is talking to.”

Amir shook his head, uninterested in Arthur’s scolding, and turned his gaze to Melelna on the bed. “It doesn’t make sense.” He quietly muttered.

“What doesn’t make sense?” Rhaegar demanded.

“It’s as if someone came to assassinate her but then changed their mind.”

“Explain, damn you!” Rhaegar snapped.

“We came back to her chambers and I left her inside so she could change into another dress. I waited outside the door and when she hadn’t come out for a while, I knocked. She didn’t answer so I pushed the door open and saw her laying on the floor.” He pinned his gaze on her neck. “That cut is from a knife. And she’s passed out but she wasn’t knocked out cold, there are no bruises anywhere on her face or her head. Whoever cut her neck could have easily killed her, but he settled for that shallow cut and even badged it with a dirty cloth before leaving.”

Melelna suddenly stirred and the man sat down next to her on the bed, taking her hand in both his own. Amir’s eyes were clouded with worry as he asserted her wound—way much more worry than one would expect from an average household guard—and there was something else in his gaze too…love?

 “You are not just her guard, are you?”  Rhaegar asked.

Amir’s lips twitched. “Is Ser Arthur just your guard, your Grace?”

“What are you to her?”

“Perhaps one day, if you earn the right to share her secrets, she’ll tell you.” Amir simply stated, then turned his attention back to Melelna’s unconscious form.

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed on the man and he opened his mouth to demand that he says more; but the Prince forgot all about Amir’s cryptic talk when Melelna stirred again, this time also slowly lifting her lids. Rhaegar hastened to her other side and also sat down on the bed. She was blinking unsteadily, her gaze unfocused until her eyes found Amir and settled on him. “Wha-what happened?” she whispered dryly. She lifted her fingers and touched the bandage on her neck, instantly wincing and jerking her hand back.

“You have a wound, nothing serious but it’s going to take a few days to mend. You don’t remember what happened, Mel? After I left you in your chamber?” Amir asked in a gentle voice.

She shut her eyes tightly and rubbed at her temples. A second later, Melena suddenly jerked upwards and sat up on the bed, eyes wide. “Uh… Someone grabbed me and then…Then I couldn’t breathe…”

“Don’t push yourself Melelna. You should let your body rest now,” Rhaegar cut in. She was pale and the spark that normally decorated her lovely eyes, was gone.

She turned her eyes on him and Rhaegar realized that she hadn’t noticed him next to her until he spoke. “My Prince,” She began. “I…” She looked unsure of what to say next and he couldn’t blame her.

“May I speak to you for a few minutes, Melelna? In private?” Rhaegar offered, keeping his voice gentle.

Melelna turned her gaze to Amir and nodded her head. The man lingered for a few moments but reluctantly stood and followed Arthur out of the room.

When they shut the door behind them, Rhaegar joined the fingers of one hand with hers. “I’m sorry.” He said, lowering his eyes.

“Why are you apologising, your Grace?” She hesitantly asked.

“Somebody hurt you because of me. There is no other reason anyone would harm you here. I don’t know why they executed it the way they did, maybe it was a warning or a message but…But I’m sorry Melelna, I’m sorry this had happened to you.” Rhaegar said before lifting the hand he had interlocked with hers and bringing the inside of her wrist to his lips. He brushed a light kiss on her skin while keeping her gaze. Melelna’s eyes got slightly hooded but she glanced away from him.

“You have no reason to apologise, your Grace.” She said and colour started to return to her cheeks.

Rhaegar touched his free hand to her jaw and tuned her face back to him. “I want one of the Kingsguard to be with you until the end of the tourney. Then I want you to come with me to King’s Landing where I can keep you safe. Will you do it, Melelna?”

 Her eyes widened and the Prince knew she understood what it was he was really asking. Her expression was torn and pained, and Rhaegar couldn’t help but wonder what it was that held her back. He could see her responding to him, at least her body did, and yet… there was a conflicted look in her eyes. “Do you—” Rhaegar hesitated. “Do you have a lover waiting for you back in Volantis?” he reluctantly asked.

Her gaze snapped to his and she tightened the grip she had around his fingers. “No! I have no lover in Volantis. It’s just… I…” She paused, lowering her eyes. “I’m going to assume you know that I was betrothed once before.” At his nod she continued: “Do you know what happened to him?”

Rhaegar uncomfortably swallowed. He knew what had happened to him—at least how whatever had happened to him ended. “He died.” He said in a soft tone.

“He…He didn’t just die Rhaegar. He was murdered.” She stated in a harsh tone.

“I was told he was robbed in Lys, the thief had slit his throat.” That’s all Varys could find on the matter and not much could escaped the spider’s reach.

Melelna shook her head and tears started gathering in her eyes. “There was no thief!” She snapped. “He died because he was going to marry _me_!” She pulled her hand from his grip, wiping the tears on her cheeks.

Rhaegar’s eyes widened before coming closed in a slow blink. No thief? Murdered? Somebody had killed her betrothed because they were to be wed? The Prince cupped her face in his hands and forced her gaze on his. “You know who killed him, don’t you Melelna?”

“Please… Don’t…I can’t. I just… I want you to know that—” She was hesitating again but the Prince understood her meaning. He had the sudden urge to laugh. If she only knew how many would be demanding his corpse soon—not that many didn’t wish him dead already.

“Melelna, I am the Crown Prince. I’m not that easy to kill you know.” He playfully assured her, brushing the remainder of her tears away.

Rhaegar shifted closer to her, their noses almost touching. He lowered one of his hands, resting it on her hip and used the thumb of the other to lightly caress her mouth. Her eyes fell on his own lips and that’s all the invitation the Prince needed. He brought his mouth down on hers and took advantage of her surprised gasp to slide his tongue inside. She returned his kiss, stroking her tongue against his own and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer, as she lowered herself on the bed. Rhaegar could feel himself getting bigger in his trousers as his hands roamed her body, taking everything he got to keep them away from her intimate areas. She was everything he had dreamed she would be and more, and he wanted her—Gods how he wanted her—but he knew he couldn’t take her now. He fought the urge to discover just how far she’d allow him to go and reluctantly pulled back.

“Should I take that as a yes? You are coming with me to King’s Landing?”  He smirked.

Melelna’s cheeks flushed but she nodded, lowering her gaze. Rhaegar tipped his finger underneath her chin and his attention was immediately returned to her swollen lips. “Let’s keep this attack quiet so you can enjoy the rest of the tourney in peace. I promise no one is going to touch you again, Melelna. I vow it to you.” He kissed her again, gentler this time, to seal his promise. No one would so much as touch a hair on her beautiful head a second time. Not now and definitely not when he made her his wife. And he would be making her his wife _soon_. He was still shocked about what she’d told him about her dead betrothed but Rhaegar sensed that he shouldn’t push for details on the matter yet—she’d tell him in her own time. For now he’d force his rage to quiet and be patient. He’d need a clear mind if he was to discover who’d done this.


	7. Chapter VI | Queen of Love and Beauty

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna spent the best part of the next four days in her chambers, patiently waiting for her wound to completely stop bleeding so she didn’t have to wear the bandage around her neck. She only informed Belio and Aren about the incident so a panic didn’t occur among the men who travelled with her from Oldtown. Amir, Ashara, Arthur and Rhaegar had kept her company during her time of isolation—the Prince always visiting when the festivities ended for the day, at nightfall. She’d missed his first two jousts against Lord Yohn Royce and Brandon Stark, but she’d attend tomorrow when he was to face Arthur.  She’d been becoming more and more accustomed to Rhaegar’s presence, looking forward to his visits—especially since he started bringing that elegantly carved harp with him and sang for her.

Tonight however, the Prince was wearing a frown on his usually pleasant face. “You should watch from the royal box where the Kingsguard will be able to guard you.” Rhaegar repeated for the third time. Arthur was the Kingsguard he had commanded to trail her and stand at her door during the day, and since he’ll be the Prince’s opponent on the morrow’s joust, he won’t be available to be with her. Regardless, Melelna wished to join Oberyn and Ashara on the lower seats. Without Rhaegar or Arthur with her, she felt uncomfortable being seated in such a tight space with the crazy-eyed King.

She, of course, couldn’t tell that to the Prince so she went with a half-truth. “Amir is more than able to keep me safe, and besides, Oberyn is going to be there too—” Rhaegar opened his mouth to protest again but she silenced him by raising an open palm. “ _And_ , even if I’m not inside the royal box, I will be seated next to it, surrounded by the royal guard and in close enough proximity to the Kingsguard to repel anyone from creating a scene.”

Rhaegar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not the Viper’s duty to keep you safe.” He insisted.

 No it isn’t. It’s Rhaegar’s duty as her future husband. Melelna couldn’t stop her lips from curving the slightest bit. “Rhaegar, I know Oberyn can be…difficult but he means well. He’s been kind to me since the very first day he met me in Dorne—a good _friend_.” She took hold of both his hands and lightly squeezed to emphasize her meaning. As if he had anything to fear from the Dornishman. Couldn’t he see she only had eyes for him since she’d laid them on his handsome face?

His gaze softened and Melelna knew she had won. “You are getting really good at having your way with me, you know. Some might think me weak.” The Prince said, feigning mock concern.

“No one would ever take you for a weak man, my Prince.” She assured him before lifting herself on her toes to plant a shy kiss on his lips. He’d been getting bolder with his advances during his nightly visits and Melelna started to feel confident enough to initiate contact as well. She’d missed the feeling of sensual touch. It’s been two years since Lysandro and she hadn’t dared to take another lover after what Nyessos had done.

Rhaegar took a few steps back and settled himself on the wooden chair by her bed, pulling her down with him to seat her on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her frame to lock her against his chest and his lips found hers again. Melelna savoured the feeling of being cocooned in his warmth and the lemon soap scent that always lingered on his skin. “What’s your favourite colour?” Rhaegar murmured between kisses.

Melelna was confused by the question at first. The last thing she expected to be occupying his thoughts while he had his mouth on her was shades of colours. “Purple, why?” she asked, lifting a brow at him.

The prince smiled against her mouth. “Only curious.” He said vaguely. “I don’t want you alone with Oberyn tomorrow. Ashara will be by your side until I can join you after my joust. Is that acceptable?”

Ashara was going to be by her side tomorrow in any case but Melelna supposed she could allow him to believe this was partly a win for him. “Yes. Thank you for finally seeing reason, my Prince.” She teased.

Rhaegar bit down on her lip. “Don’t make me change my mind, _gevie_. I could have ser Gerold carry you to the Royal box and command him to make certain that you remain there.”

He could, but Melelna knew he wouldn’t. But then again, she didn’t wish to push her luck so she smiled wide and nodded her head. “I promise I’ll keep Ashara by my side the whole time, and as for Oberyn, I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you. Amir is going to be with me and he dislikes him more than you do.” She said as she ran her fingers through his silver hair.

Rhaegar’s expression sobered at the mention of her brother and Melelna wondered if Amir had done something to offend the Prince. “About Amir,” The prince began. “How did he come to be your personal guard?”

Melelna tensed, and struggled to keep her expression neutral. “His mother was my nursemaid. My own mother bought her when I was born but she couldn’t find it in her heart to separate her from her son so she bought him too. Amir was five at the time. He started training with our slave guards when he was ten and eventually joined our household guard.  I requested for him to be my personal guard when I was fifteen.” Melelna searched his eyes. “Why do you ask?” It was mostly the truth. Except for Amir’s true lineage, of course.

“He is very protective of you. And caring. The loyalty I see in his eyes when he looks at you is uncommon for a household guard.” Rhaegar asserted, eyes slightly narrowed.

She hated to lie to him but it was too early to confess the truth about Amir. Too much was at stake if word ever found its way to her father. “Then I suppose I should consider myself lucky for having such a reliable guard.”

“Yes,” Rhaegar reluctantly agreed. “You should.”

…

Ashara knocked on her door early the next morning, accompanied by Ser Oswell. The Kingsguard—who was filling in for Arthur—had orders to escort them to the tourney grounds when Melelna was dressed and ready to go.

While the servants helped Melelna bathe and style her hair, Ashara had chosen a gown for her from the chests. It was one of the sleeveless dresses she’d brought with her from home—patterned azure silk with a deep neckline and thin straps over her shoulders, holding it up. She wore it with a thin golden chain secured loosely around her waist and twin bracelets on both upper arms. An elegant, sheer scarf decorated her neck to conceal the line of her wound.

Ashara was dressed in a similarly cut dress, which Melelna had insisted that she tries on when she saw the girl’s eyes asserting it with appreciation in the chest. The deep lilac of the gown complemented the Dornish girl’s stunning eyes to perfection. Arthur’s sister truly was beautiful—inside and out—and Melelna couldn’t help but wonder which of the men who couldn’t take their eyes of her, held the lovely lady’s heart. They hadn’t mentioned the stable incident again but Ashara confessed to Melelna that she was in love, refraining from giving his name. _Perhaps he’ll make an appearance at the joust_ , Melelna thought.

Ser Oswell left them on the lower seats and returned to his position by the king, but not before sending a warning glare towards Oberyn’s direction.

“That one doesn’t like me very much? Does he?” Oberyn feigned offense.

Melelna shook her head and smiled at the Dornish Prince. She hadn’t seen him since the attack and missed his playful moods. She was looking forward to traveling to King’s Landing with Rhaegar but not to parting with her unexpected friend.   

 More attendants began to arrive, walking in front of the Volantene and taking the seats on her right. It was a group of five people, all—except a tall, burly man with bright blue eyes—wearing direwolfs on their clothing. Ashara whispered in her ear that they were the Starks, along with the young Lord Baratheon, who was betrothed to the Stark sister. The Starks shared similar look, long faces, dark hair and grey eyes; but they differed in age and build. The largest of the wolfs paused in front of Melelna and offered his hand along with a wide charming smile. “Lady Melelna, A pleasure to finally meet you.” The man’s eyes appeared liquid silver as his gaze studied her, towering over her seat.

“This is Brandon Stark. The heir to Winterfell,” Ashara offered, but the girl’s attention was glued on the shorter man, besides the eldest Stark.

Melelna stood and placed her elegant fingers on his rough looking, scared ones. “Likewise, my lord,” she said after he placed a kiss on her knuckle and slowly released her hand.

“Your absence from the festivities was noted and mourned, my sweet lady,” Brandon said, seduction dripping from his voice.

Melelna blushed and shyly smiled, unsure of what to say to the handsome Stark. She had to admit that there was a vicious beauty to him, all rough edges, hard muscles and scars. _And those gorgeous silver eyes,_ so unlike any other man she’d ever seen.

She heard a snort coming from Oberyn’s direction and turned her head to find him regarding Brandon with a skittish look. “Why don’t you invite your betrothed to meet Lady Melelna? She didn’t have the chance to get acquainted with a lot of the ladies yet. And besides, you should be happy she wasn’t here to see the Prince force you on your ass.” Oberyn said, causing Brandon’s eyes to harden.

“Prince Oberyn,” The eldest Stark sneered. “Lady Catelyn is not attending the joust today, but I’m certain she’ll be delighted to meet Lady Melelna over tea.” The anger seemed to have left the Northman’s eyes, replaced by amusement and a little disbelief as his gaze locked with that of the Dornish Prince.

The younger man next to Brandon spoke next, introducing himself as Eddard Stark and his younger siblings as Benjen and Lyanna. Lady Lyanna’s betrothed, Robert Baratheon, also informed her that he was Rhaegar’s cousin. He had a leering look in his eyes, similar to that of Brandon, but he was much more subtle about it, most likely because of his current escort.

The Starks seated themselves and Melelna chattered with Ashara until the arena suddenly hushed. The two competing knights were galloping towards the royal platform _._ _Rhaegar._

Both Knights came to a stop next to one another and respectfully inclined their heads to the King. Aerys gripped both the armrests of his chair and–with obvious effort—pushed himself on his feet, all the while wearing a sour expression on his face. He apathetically waved his hand and immediately returned to his cushions. Rhaegar and Arthur turned their mounts toward their starting position on the field. 

Every woman in sight, regardless of their marriage status, openly stared at Rhaegar with hooded, dreamy eyes. Melelna couldn’t help but do the same. He looked…inhuman among the other men, with his night-black armour and silver hair flying behind his head as he found his way to the tilt barrier.

His horse shared _midnight_ ’s colouring but that’s where their similarities ended. It was a true warhorse in both size and form. The beast wore armour similar to that of his master around its muscular frame—the Targaryen three headed dragon carved and painted blood-red on the dark plate covering its wide neck.

When Rhaegar halted by the barrier, a young boy—who Melelna assumed was his squire—hastily strode to him holding his lance in one hand and his helm in the other. The boy raised the hand with the helmet first and Rhaegar donned it on his head. It had a large dragon wing decorating each side and only left the prince’s bewitching eyes visible to the world.

Melelna heard deep feminine sighs coming from the rows behind her and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Even so, a small smile appeared on her lips. Those indigo coloured eyes were fixed on her; and from her position, so close to the arena, she could see the morning light as it danced in them.

She thought she might have heard Oberyn say something next to her but she couldn’t be sure as focused as she was on her silent exchange with the Prince. Rhaegar lifted his head in her direction and then gripped the hilt of his lance in one hand and the shield with the Targaryen heraldry— which another boy had carried to him—in the other. His gaze averted from her as he brought his lance into position, readying to face his friend.

On the opposite side of the barrier, Arthur made for an impressive sight in his own right. In contrast to the Prince’s solid black figure, he was covered in white—as was expected by the knights of the Kingsguard. The two of them inspired a breath-taking spectacle as they prepared to begin.

The flag was waved and the two of them took off, charging down the tilt. The thundering hooves created a mist of dust as the animals moved their powerful legs and soon they were mere inches from each other. Both lances jerked forward, connecting with their target. Rhaegar’s lance found Arthur’s shoulder, turning into splinters, but the hit wasn’t strong enough to force the Kingsguard off his horse. Arthur’s own lance was destroyed as it made contact with Rhaegar’s breastplate.

Their squires quickly replaced their broken lances and in no time, the two were speeding down the line again. This time however, Rhaegar was faster. His lance connected with Arthur’s shield, the force of the hit enough to send the Kingsguard off the back of his horse. Loud cheers and praises for the Prince split the air, Melelna adding her own voice to them.  

The Prince turned his horse around and halted by the defeated Kingsguard. He jumped off his saddle and handed his broken lance and shield to his squire before extending an arm towards his friend. Arthur took Rhaegar’s offering and allowed the Prince to pull him off the floor. He looked unhurt for the most part as they both made their way to the King. They both removed their helms and respectfully nodded their heads. Aerys mumbled something incoherent, looking uninterested in the result.

Melelna frowned. What sort of father doesn’t praise his son and heir?

**_Rhaegar_ **

The Prince had traded his jousting armour for his formal tunic, the three headed dragon positioned proudly on his chest. He’d intended to return to the field and join Melelna but Arthur’s voice stopped him before he’d reached his chamber’s door.

“You are becoming careless.” His friend warned.

Rhaegar frowned at him. Careless? With what? “I’m afraid I don’t grasp your meaning.”

“Melelna,” Arthur stated simply while pinning him with a serious stare. “She disappears for four days and you are seen leaving her chambers every single night at ungodly hours.” The Kingsguard gave him an expectant look, mixed with a little irritation, as if he should’ve put this together already without having to be told.

“She was hurt. What would she think of me if I abandoned her, only to return when she was well and healed? I don’t think that would paint me as a good prospective for a husband, would it?” Rhaegar explained in an annoyed tone. He knew Arthur’s words were true, he had been careless. He never intended to stay as late as he did and always took a mental note to be sensible the next time he visited her chamber, but he kept on failing to follow his own advice—without fault, every single time.

Arthur arched a dark brow at him. “Her well-being is the least of your concerns when you close the door behind you and command everyone out—something else that also has been noted, you should know—but,” Arthur held both his hands up in surrender when the Prince’s slightly irritated gaze turned into a full blown glare. “ _But,_ ” he repeated. “Even if that was so, it makes little difference. She is rumoured to be your bride, that much is true. But she isn’t yet, and you haven’t even officially announced the betrothal. She is a stranger to our ways, Rhaegar. Things are different in Volantis. Here, they’ll brand her a who—” He stopped himself and visibly swallowed. “My point is, you are the one out of the two of you who knows how things work on this side of the sea, especially at court. She needs you to teach her how to fit in and you are doing the shittiest job so far, if I may say.” Arthur boldly concluded.

Rhaegar rubbed at his temples. Every single thing Arthur had said was true, of course. His lust for her could end up hurting her in the long run when it came to winning the hearts of the people. She was already at a disadvantage, not being Westerosi born. She was sweet and kind and Rhaegar had no doubts she could enchant the smallfolk just by being her true, tender-hearted self, but the nobles would give her a much bloodier fight. Especially the women, judging from the looks he glimpsed them giving her today on the stands. She luckily didn’t seem to notice, but Rhaegar did and it made his blood boil. At least now he knew the reason why. No, that was a lie. He knew the reason well enough before, he just hadn’t accepted it until Arthur had voiced it out loud. _Well, at least there is one thing I can do to silence some of the rumours and start new, harmless ones._ The prince thought, a smile appearing on his lips. The final joust would serve as the perfect opportunity to name her his queen and subtly announce their betrothal.

“Your concern has been noted,” he told Arthur, indicating the end of that conversation. “What of the attacker? Did you find anything new?” The only piece of information they had gathered so far was that a man was seen climbing off a nearby balcony. Unfortunately however, the servant who’d seen him wasn’t even sure that it was a man. _“A cloaked figure, Your Grace. Tall as you are.”_ the girl had said, which gave them absolutely nothing to identify him with, other than it was probably a man.

“No,” Arthur informed him, running a hand through his hair. “No one saw anything,” he spat. “I interrogated every servant who set foot in any room that had a window view of her chamber that day. No hooded man on any balconies, or anyone out of the ordinary roaming the corridors. It’s like looking for a ghost.” Rhaegar could see that the lack of information was as displeasing for Arthur as it was for him.

“We’ll find him.” It was a statement. He wouldn’t fail in this. This man, whoever it was, had touched and harmed what was his. He’d loose his head for it and so would his master after his Kingsguard made him sing. Rhaegar was sure that whoever had done it wasn’t the real danger here. It was the noble who had sent him, no wonder filling the assassin’s pockets with gold. _But if he was a sellsword, why wouldn’t he finish the job?_

“One more thing,” the Prince said before he gripped the handle of the door. “You’ve grown close to that guard she loves so much. Try and get him to talk to you about her dead betrothed. Especially what he knows about the manner of his death.”

Arthur frowned. “Amir is much smarter than he lets on, and loyal to the bone to her. He’ll know I’m doing your bidding, no matter how I bring it up.”

Rhaegar let out an audible sigh. “What’s with them anyway? I highly doubt he’s just a dutiful guard. He cares for her but I never saw lust in his eyes, so it can’t be a simple case of a guard helplessly and eternally in love with his mistress.”

Arthur shrugged. “I couldn’t say. It ate at me the first few weeks on the road when we were on our way from Oldtown. Oberyn found it curious too. But as you’ve said, there are no romantic indications on either side and I have a feeling Amir wouldn’t tell me even if I held Dawn against his neck. Only she can answer that question, I’m afraid.”

Rhaegar nodded and made his way back to the tourney grounds, Arthur dutifully following close behind. He found Melelna by the castle’s main entrance, surrounded by a group of nobles. To the Prince’s displeasure, Oberyn was standing next to her while she was gracefully chattering with Lady Catelyn Tully. The Starks were with them too, along with his cousin. It was the first time she roamed the grounds without the Prince’s escort and it seemed that everyone grasped the opportunity to meet the mysterious Essosi guest. Oberyn was standing way too close to Melelna for Rhaegar’s comfort, but… _this could serve as a diversion._

Every mouth abruptly stopped moving when they noticed him approach. Rhaegar greeted Melelna first and kissed both her cheeks while keeping eye contact with the Dornish Prince. Oberyn only raised a questioning brow at him.

“Your Grace,” some of them said simultaneously while respectfully bowing their heads, the women curtsying.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” The Prince began in an apologetic tone, then glanced at Oberyn. “A word?” It came out more like a command than a request and Rhaegar had intended it so.

 Some of the nobles shifted uncomfortable, others—like Brandon and his cousin—found the situation amusing. With Melelna being Rhaegar’s rumoured bride and Oberyn escorting her to the joust today, it was easy to assume the reason for Rhaegar’s sudden wish to speak to him in private and the hostility in his tone. _Good_. The Prince though, _let them assume_.

Oberyn’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Of course, Your Grace. Lead the way.” 

Melelna also looked uncomfortable with the tone Rhaegar had used so the Prince gave her a reassuring smile before walking towards the godswood. They strode there in silence, not stopping until they were by the stream. Rhaegar had to make certain that no spies would pry on his exchange with the dornish. The sound of the water would mask their words to anyone hiding behind the trees and if they risked coming closer to listen, they would have Arthur to deal with.

“You’ve chosen an excellent bride, Your Grace.” Oberyn proclaimed. Rhaegar started to question his decision to consult the Red Viper.  Provocation leaked from the man in waves. Perhaps he underestimated how besotted Oberyn had become with Melelna.

“Did she tell you that? That she’s to be my bride?” Rhaegar asked in a bored tone.

“I have two eyes. And two ears for that matter. She has no need to tell me. But I must admit, my prince, lady Melelna is quite beautiful—one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, if I may be so bold—but I didn’t expect you to hide her in chambers for four days to make your point.” Oberyn told him, still wearing that smirking expression on his face. Rhaegar knew the dornish was referring to the gossip about his nightly visits. He stopped his jaw from clenching and reminded himself that too much was at stake to be baited into playing Oberyn’s childish games.

“Melelna has been feeling unwell. I’m sure she told you? It would be discourteous of me not to make certain of her comfort.”

Oberyn’s lips twitched at his choice of words but Rhaegar ignored him. “Does it displease Your Grace that she tells me so much?” The red viper asked.

 _Yes, more than you can imagine,_ the Prince almost blurted out but he held his tongue.

“I don’t know, should it bother me? She considers you a friend, a very close one at that.” Rhaegar said instead.

“I’m pleased to hear that. I too consider her a good friend. She is… refreshing. Did you escort me here to suggest for that to change, prince Rhaegar?” There was challenge in his black gaze. _You need Dorne, killing him would gain you nothing but more enemies._

“No,” Rhaegar stated calmly and then stared straight into the Viper’s jet eyes. “But if you try and bury those fangs where they don’t belong, there will be consequences. Make no mistake about that, Viper.”

A small smile appeared on Oberyn’s lips. “I’ll be sure to remember that, Your Grace. Now, if not for Melelna, then why did you request my company?”

“I hear you already have three beautiful daughters. I also hear that you love them very much.” Rhaegar said, testing his reaction.

Oberyn’s whole demeanour changed. Any traces of playfulness left his eyes, only the killer remaining, plain for all to see. “You are the Crown Prince and Melelna is fond of you but if you thi—“

“That was not a threat. Do you take me for a person who would harm a child, Martell?” The Crown Prince interrupted him before the dornish made threats that he could not overlook. Rhaegar averted his gaze to the stream, watching the water as it navigated its way through the mossy rocks. “The day before we left for Harrenhal, a girl stole a sword from a sleeping guard at the Red Keep’s gate. She was seen by another guard and was brought before the King so she could answer for her crime. She couldn’t have been more than ten. Do you know want to know what her punishment was?”

Oberyn visibly swallowed and lowered his eyes. It seems the news of Aerys’s favourite method of punishment had reached as far as Sunspear. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want to marry Melelna as soon as I return to King’s Landing, you know. But if you were me, tell me Oberyn, would you allow your beloved wife and children to live under the same roof with him? Afraid every day that one of them might accidently say a wrong word that will result in them being tied to the same post that little girl was?”

“You are the Prince of Dragonstone. Take her to your fortress-island if you don’t wish for her to live in Maegor’s Holdfast.” Oberyn suggested.

“And what of my mother? My brother? My friends in King’s Landing? The half million people who live in it? How long ‘till he burns someone who’s death is going to cause much more than a minor annoyance?” Rhaegar countered. He planned to take Melelna to Dragonstone as soon as they were wed but that didn’t mean he didn’t care for what happened to his father’s other possible victims—which was pretty much everyone with a pulse.

“I’m going to ask you again, and this time I want a straight answer. Why are you telling me this? You do remember that my brother is the one who rules Dorne, yes?” Oberyn questioned but judging from the calculating look in his eyes, he knew why Rhaegar was trusting him with this information.

“Doran is not here, you are. I need to come to an understanding with him but I wouldn’t dare travel to Sunspear with how close I’m being watched already. I want you to take him a proposition.”

“You want me to ask him to commit treason, you mean.” Oberyn said but his tone wasn’t defensive, he didn’t sound surprised either.

“What I want is for your brother to look at the facts and make a rational decision. I will be married soon, hopefully Melelna will bless me with an heir before the year is out. I hear his daughter, Arianne is quite lovely. Perhaps she could make a great Queen one day. We never had a Queen named Arianne before. Tell your brother that, will you?”

Oberyn seemed to consider his next words before speaking, “Tell him yourself. Or do you not intent to invite us to your wedding? Doran would likely send me in his stead but I’ll make sure he understands the importance of attending.”

The two men locked gazes for a long moment. Rhaegar was risking everything by openly discussing treason with the younger Prince of Dorne but what choice did he have left? Oberyn was unpredictable but he was no monster. If he let word of this conversation slip, then Melelna would be along those Aerys would order executed for treason. He had to force himself believe that Oberyn was fond enough of her so not to chance her life.

Rhaegar respectfully inclined his head. “I’ll do that. An invitation will arrive at Dorne as soon as we have a date. I hope that our conversat—”

“There was no conversation. You made your threats about keeping my fangs away from your soon to be betrothed and that was that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Melelna that I would sup with her and Lady Ashara. It seems the lady has missed my company.” Oberyn cut him off and began to walk back, towards the castle. _The bloody snake just hissed at me and then walked off_. He’d have to keep up appearances and act hostile towards the dornish for the remainder of the tourney. _At least that part of the plan will require no effort from my side,_ Rhaegar thought and despite the circumstances, a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

…

The final day of the tourney had arrived and with it the final joust. Melelna joined Oberyn and Ashara once again but to Rhaegar’s relief, Lady Catelyn had also joined with them along with her sister Lysa. The prince couldn’t say if the two girls truly enjoyed Melelna’s company or they simply wished to gain favour with their future Queen. They made her smile though, and he heard her musical laugh coming from the direction of their seats every so often, so he was glad she was fond of the Tully girls.

He glanced towards Ser Barristan on the opposite side of the barrier. The man was in his forties but with his Kingsguard white armour and helmet on, no one could guess it unless they knew him. _A worthy opponent for the final joust_ , Rhaegar thought.

Rhaegar’s horse was impatiently kicking its back legs, eager to rush down the field. Perhaps the animal could feel his master’s own restlessness. He ought to win this joust, for _her_.

The flag finally went down and Rhaegar watched as the older knight’s white stallion took off, galloping down the line. Rhaegar’s own horse followed suit, leaving a cloud of dust trailing them, behind its braided tail.  

Rhaegar tightened his grip around the lance and locked his gaze on the Kingsguard’s breastplate. He saw Selmy’s lance, coming for his shoulder and quickly slightly shifted his body to the left while his own weapon found its target.

Selmy flew from his horse, the metal he wore making a loud thud as it came in contact with the ground. The crowd went wild, shouting the Prince’s name and cheering for his win. He could feel every set of eyes pinned on him but Rhaegar’s attention was fixed on a specific violet pair.

He took off his helm and gave a victory gallop around the arena—causing the volume of the cheers and screams to increase even further—before coming to a halt next to a young man holding a velvet red cushion, raised above his head. A crown of lilac roses laid on it, Rhaegar’s own choice. Every other flower a lighter violet shade, similar to that of her eyes.

Rhaegar accepted a new lance from his squire—since the one he had used against Barristan was now shards and splinters—and passed the its tip through the crown’s ring, raising it in the air. He led his horse towards Melelna’s seat and came to a halt in front of her, extending the flowers in her direction.

He dropped the crown on her lap. “My Queen of love and Beauty.” A wide smile appeared on his lips. “And soon to be mine own Princess.” He made certain his words were loud enough for those seated on the rows near her to hear, and judging from the gasps filling the air, they did.

Melelna returned his smile shyly. “My Prince,” was all she said before raising the crown and wearing it proudly on her silken, silvery hair. There was surprise in those violet pools, she surely expected the roses if he had won but she didn’t see his public announcement coming. She seemed content with it however, and it would put a stop to any talk about her honour.

He liked her in the crown, he decided. A shame the roses would die in a few days’ time. She’d wear it at the final feast tonight, seated by his side and perhaps he could convince to keep it on her head on the way to King’s Landing. Rhaegar grinned at the picture in his head, but then another imaged passed through his mind involving his little lilac Queen and her pretty flowery crown, making his throat go dry. _I’ll need another same crown for our wedding night then_ , the Prince thought, and took a mental note to check if they grew that shade of roses in the royal gardens.


	8. Chapter VII | Emerald Nightmare

**_Melelna_ **

Amir wasn’t exaggerating when he said that the smallfolk adored the Prince. Every time they passed by an inn or a village along the Kingsroad, the people were eager to shout and scream Rhaegar’s name at the top of their lungs, giving him a regal welcome. When the royal party reached King’s Landing, things got even crazier. Masses of the city’s habitants were waiting behind the line of city watch guards on both sides of the streets all the way from the Dragon Gate to the Red Keep.

Melelna momentarily regretted making the journey on horseback, longing for the privacy of the litter. As soon as she was noticed, every eye seem to fall on her, giving her curious intent stares. It took all her willpower to remain calm and composed on _midnight’s_ back as the crowd’s gazes measured and studied her without an ounce of effort to keep their action discreet.

 Rhaegar however, looked most tranquil on his stallion next to her, smiling and occasionally waving to the smallfolk.

Melelna suddenly realized that she hadn’t heard anyone cheering for the king, not even once. Not that anyone could actually see the king of course, who was constantly hidden by the closed curtains of his litter a small distance behind them.

She blew a sigh of relief when they passed under the Red Keep’s great bronze gates. The whole castle appeared to be made of pale red stone, from the enormous drum-towers to the halls and the massive curtain walls that surrounded it.

The king and his company followed behind them until Rhaegar motioned for her to turn left, following up a hill. Two of the Kingsguard joined with them, along with Amir, Ashara’s litter and the ladies’ baggage train—the rest of the royal party continuing under an inner gate. The Dornish lady accepted Melelna’s invitation to join her at court after Arthur suggested that his sister would make an excellent lady in waiting and loyal companion for the Volantene.

They came to a halt in front of a long, slate roofed building and the prince dismounted before helping Melelna climb down of her own horse.

“Champers have been prepared for you and Lady Ashara inside the Maidenvault,” Rhaegar said, lifting his chin towards the scarlet building. “As well as apartments for your three personal guards down the street. Come, let me show you to your solar.” He concluded, and offered his hand.

Melelna let him curl his fingers around hers and lead her through the carved doors and then up a curved staircase. They navigated through the corridors until they came to a stop in front of a slightly open wooden door.

Myrish carpets covered the floor of the chamber they entered and artistic tapestries adorned the walls. It was a spacious room. One end furnished as a seating area with a desk and a small table, a large four-poster bed covered in cream sheets on the other.  The flames licked high in the hearth and somebody had already lit the candles.

Melelna gazed out one of the two tall windows on the east wall and found the sun barely visible on the heavily clouded sky. The weather had been worsening these past few days and the clouds were so thick, Melelna wondered if she would see snow for the first time in her life—which reminded her that she had to order new, warmer gowns since the temperature in Volantis never dropped low enough for her to require winter clothing.    

“I hope the chamber is to your liking.” Rhaegar said.

“It is. Thank you, your grace.” Melelna’s lips curved into a genuine smile.

Rhaegar turned to Arthur who had followed them inside. “Bring Ser Jaime and explain his new duties to him on the way,” The prince commanded his Kingsguard before returning his attention to Melelna. “As my betrothed, one of the Kingsguard will be your sworn shield. Ser Jaime may be young but people already whisper that he is one of the best swords in the realm. I don’t see any need for you to have personal guards anymore but it is your choice if you wish to keep them.” She remembered the young blond. She only got a glimpse of him the day of the tourney’s opening ceremonies when he received his white cloak. Melelna recalled him intently watching her, not softening his stare even when she gazed right back into his emerald eyes. The memory caused a chill to creep up her spine but she couldn’t quite comprehend the reason why. _He’s Cersei’s brother that’s why_ , she concluded. _Her twin_. The Lannister girl didn’t return to the capital with them but Melelna could clearly remember the nefarious look in her eye when she came to say goodbye to the prince shorty before leaving Harrenhal.

Melelna nodded. “I would prefer to keep my three personal guards. And the rest of my escort as well. Where will my household guards be staying?”

“Just outside the Red Keep. I could add them to the shifts of the royal guard who is responsible for guarding the corridors in this building if you like. Do you want me to send word to Oldtown for your ship to sail for King’s Landing as well?”

“Yes, that would be most kind. Thank you, Your Grace.” Melelna was a little surprised at his eagerness to surround her with her Volantene guards but she wasn’t about to argue with him.

Arthur had left the room, closing the door behind him, so she was once again alone with Rhaegar. She studied his face for a few silent moments. There was something awry in his expression, like he was weighting possibilities in his mind and Melelna noticed that he avoided looking her in the eye.

“Rhaegar,” she said in a soft voice. The familiarity and warmth in her tone must’ve pulled him back from wherever his thoughts had taken him because the prince’s eyes lightened up when he finally met her gaze. “Is something on your mind?”

The prince gave her a sad smile and beckoned her to go to him, as he leaned on the wall by the window. When she was next to him, Rhaegar shifted his position to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her small waist. “I want something from you.” He whispered next to her ear.

Melelna struggled to keep her voice even. “Yes?” she encouraged.

Rhaegar chuckled lightly. “We’ll get to that but first I want a promise from you.”

“What promise?”

“For as long as we stay in King’s Landing, I want you to avoid the Great Hall and Maegor’s Holdfast. You’ll meet my mother and brother of course but that can happen in the royal gardens or here if you prefer.” There was an authoritative tone to his voice now and Melelna understood that even though the prince had voiced it as a request, there was no room for argument with him. She didn’t particularly mind staying away from court, even though she was curious about the iron throne after all she read about the way it was forged, but…it did trouble her that he commanded her to practically stay out of sight.

“Why?” She reluctantly asked, then lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “Of course if that’s your wish, it will be done your Grace.”

Rhaegar span her around and searched her eyes. “No… It’s not what you think. I have no intention of hiding you or not paying you the respect you deserve as my princess. I swear Mel, there are things… I haven’t told you yet. Please, just trust me on this and do as I say. You’ll understand in time. For now, try and familiarize yourself with the rest of the city, there is much more to see and we won’t be staying here for long.”

 _Won’t be staying here for long?_ “Where will we go, my prince?”

“Dragonstone, after the wedding.” Again, with that matter of fact tone. The same tone her father used when he wanted to let her now that it was the end of their discussion. For the first time since she’d met the prince, Melelna felt uneasy in his presence. She ignored the feeling, it was too late to have second thoughts now and besides, thus far his requests were reasonable even if he didn’t explain his reasons.

“I see,” Melelna slightly inclined her head. “Is it true that the rooms in Dragonstone are shaped like dragons?” she asked in a joyful tone, trying to supress the tension that she sensed growing between them.

Rhaegar chuckled. “Some rooms, yes. I believe you’ll like it there. Now about the other thing…” he gave her a sultry smile, making heat creep up her neck, finding its way to her cheeks.

“What other thing, Your Grace?” She asked, even though she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You are not a maiden,” he stated bluntly but his tone didn’t betray his feelings about his observation.

Melelna’s face reddened even further and she took a hesitant step back, dropping her gaze to her sandals. “No, I’m not,” she whispered in a voice that was barely audible. She expected this subject to come up eventually and she wouldn’t lie to the prince, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing for her.

“Any of the guardsmen you brought with you for Volantis?” Rhaegar asked, still keeping his emotions out of his voice.

Melelna’s eyes widened before they flared up at him. “What? No! I would never!” She fumed defensively before trying to walk around him, away from the window.

Rhaegar caught her arm and pulled her back to him. “I’m sorry. I had to ask. Don’t take offense over the question Melelna. I needed to know if you had a paramour with you, please understand.”

“Did I seem like I had a paramour to you?” She asked accusingly, unable to keep the hurt from being evident in her shaky voice. She took a deep breath, soothing her anger. “It was just Lysandro. I haven’t been with anyone else since…well you know.” Melelna confessed and hoped that he wouldn’t ask her any more questions. She could see the tension leave his eyes at her admission, a hint of regret in his gaze.

He opened his mouth to say more but to Melelna’s utter relief, a knock came from the door. Rhaegar released his grip on her and put some more distance between them before ordering the person outside to enter, his expression transforming into a blank mask.

Arthur walked into the chamber, along with Ser Jaime. She studied her new bodyguard. His eyes were fixed on Rhaegar, not even giving a glance towards her direction.

“Your Grace,” Jaime greeted, bowing deeply.

He only spoke to the prince, still not meeting Melelna’s gaze. She frowned. Perhaps he disliked her because he’d hoped his sister would become Rhaegar’s bride, she sadly realized.

“You understand your new duties?” Rhaegar asked.

“I will protect Lady Melelna with my life if need be. I’m honoured you would trust me with the safety of your betrothed, Your Grace.” Jaime declared in a sincere tone. Even though he still hadn’t looked at her, Melelna couldn’t find any evidence that he was unhappy with his newfound role.

Rhaegar nodded approvingly at the young Kingsguard. “Very well,” He turned to Melelna. “The sun is almost down, I’m sure you are tired and wish to relax and recover from the journey. I’ll have the servants draw you a bath and leave you to your rest. On the morrow you can break your fast with me and my mother—Ashara too if you would prefer.”

Melelna grinned widely, regardless of their earlier quarrel. “Of course, I would like that very much, your grace.”

“Jaime will escort you to my mother’s solar in the morning,” Rhaegar announced, then walked to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her flush against his chest. He lowered his head and kissed her. Lightly at first, gently caressing her lips with his own. But when she opened her mouth for him and traced his lips with her tongue, he seemed to forget the two Kingsguard in the room as he tightened his hold around her and devoured her mouth.

Melelna opened her eyes and pushed lightly on his chest while giving a sideways glance towards the two men. They were both suddenly greatly interested in the patterns of the Myrish carpets.

Rhaegar reluctantly broke the kiss and took a step back from her. “Good night, my lady,” he said before disappearing out the door, Arthur trailing ever so dutifully behind him.  

Jaime lingered for a few seconds, looking out the window. Then finally, he looked at her. She searched his bright green eyes but found them unreadable.

“I will share the night shift with one of your personal guards, my lady. Have a good night.” Jaime bowed elegantly and retreated, not waiting for her answer. 

Melena didn't know what to make of the young knight. There were no malicious vibes coming from him—unlike his sister, who by the last day of the tourney, looked at Melelna with enough venom in her gaze to poison one of the great elephants—yet...yet there was something about him... something that made her uneasy, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

**…**

As promised, early the next morning Jaime knocked softly on her door to wake her and informed her that her morning bath had arrived. Two young girls strolled into the chamber and prepared her for her introduction to the Queen. A seamstress also visited before Melelna got dressed and took her measurements for new gowns, “befitting a princess,” the woman had said, orders of the Queen.

 She chose a Volantene pale apricot-coloured gown and let the girls secure her silver locks away from her face. The only jewellery she wore was a satin choker necklace that matched the shade of her dress, decorated by a large oval black diamond framed by tiny white ones. The invitation had also been extended to lady Ashara, so both women stood alongside each other as they waited for the Kingsguard posted at the Queen’s solar entrance to let them through. The man made no move to open the door for a few long moments. His dark eyes intently studied Melelna’s features, his expression part-surprise part-confusion. She stared right back at him and realized that there was something awfully familiar about his face but she couldn’t recall being introduced to him at the tourney.

“Prince Lewyn,” She heard Jaime say from beside her in a respectful but also a little expectant tone. “The Queen is expecting the ladies to break her fast with them.”

 _Lewyn Martell_. Well that explained what felt familiar about him, perhaps he reminded her of Oberyn. But then again…there was something else about the Kingsguard that still nagged at her, but what?

“Forgive me lady Melelna, that was rude of me,” his eyes turned apologetic. “For a moment, I thought you were someone else, but I was surely mistaken. You couldn’t be her, you are far too young. My memory is playing tricks with me.” He said the words in a way that made Melelna wonder if he was trying to convince her or himself.

He pushed the door open and stepped aside for her to pass before she could ask who it was he thought that she was, and Melelna’s attention shifted to the beautiful woman standing next to the window, by a small round table inside the chamber. She was dressed in an elegant golden satin gown with a tight bodice that was decorated in blood red rubies which matched the ones on the golden tiara upon her head.  The image in front of Melelna was so painfully reminiscent, she could feel her heart tightening in her chest.

Melelna kept her expression pleasant and welcoming as she was introduced to the Queen, but deep inside a thousand different emotions were seething. _So much like mother,_ she thought. She hadn’t felt her mother’s loss this powerfully since the day she watched her body turn to ash—as it was fit for those of Valyrian noble blood. It wasn’t just Valyrian beauty that the two women shared, what hit Melelna the hardest was the same sad look of resignation that reflected in their gaze.

“Please have a seat, my sweet girls.” The Queen said, gesturing towards the small table. When she raised her arm, Melelna noticed a fading bruise on the inside of her wrist but quickly averted her gaze.  The thought of the King being responsible for that bruise send a shiver up her spine. He was Rhaegar’s father, and no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that the prince would never do something as discreditable as raising a hand to her, the fact was that Rhaegar still remained mostly a mystery to her.

The Queen must’ve caught her quick glance and realized from her expression where Melelna’s thoughts were taking her because she offered a sad smile before she said, “My eldest son is the biggest joy in my life. So much like me, my firstborn…”— _so unlike his father_ , Melelna could almost hear the Queen’s unspoken words.  “Tell me about yourself lady Melelna. Other than some basic facts about your ancestory, not much is known about you. Your father must love you very much to keep you so close to him inside the black walls.” The queen observed, changing the subject after taking a seat on the opposite side.

Melelna smiled. Her father did love her very much, and despite his sometimes overprotective ways, he never caused her to feel trapped or without a voice. He trusted her with his business and listened to her opinions about the ways they were investing their coin. He didn't always agree with her but he always listened and explained his reasons. Melelna loved him for that. He told as much to the Queen and also confessed her passion for painting and sketching.

“And your mother?” Queen Rhaella soothingly asked, no wonder guessing that it might be a sore subject.

“My mother was a great woman, you grace,” Melelna proudly declared. “She was the one who taught me how to sketch, before I was even old enough to read or write. But as you probably know, she was from a lesser Lysene family of merchants. Many didn't think it appropriate when my father took her for wife.”

The Queen’s eyes warmed. “Your mother sounds like a great woman, my sweet. It doesn’t matter what ‘many’ thought. Your father must’ve loved her very much if he married her regardless of the opinions of the nobles. I know no one could fill her place in your heart child, but…” she paused, covering Melelna’s hand with her own. “The Gods have taken a lot of my girls from me, perhaps this once…they gifted me with one that belonged to another.”

Melelna was taken aback by the sincerity in the Queen’s voice. She expected the Queen to be well…queenly. Not that the woman didn’t look and speak very much like the Queen she was, but there was also a kindness to her, a true gentleness that Melelna didn’t expect to receive from Rhaegar’s mother for some time.

The prince soon joined them, just as the servants set the plates of boiled eggs and warm buttered bread on the table. More servants followed, bringing the tea along with a pot of honey and warm milk.

Rhaegar took the seat next to her and lightly kissed her hand, apologizing for his tardiness. He joined their conversation and asked questions about Melelna’s childhood, taking an interest in her appreciation for art. She promised to show him her sketchbook and the prince in turn, assured her that she would have supplies for painting delivered to her solar.

She didn’t see Rhaegar for two days after that morning and when he did finally show up at her chamber door, he looked like he hadn’t slept since returning to King’s Landing. She’d asked him if something was wrong but the prince assured her that it was nothing she had to concern herself with. She let it go and tried not to think too much of it—the prince had been away from the city for a few moons after all. Surely there were piled crown matters that waited to be addressed by him now that he’s returned.

The hours of his visits were unpredictable, sometimes early in the mornings just as she got out of bed, other times late in the middle of the night. He often joined her on her walks through the gardens and once even accompanied her to a tour through the city.

Her first week in the Red Keep passed joyfully and even though she was sure Rhaegar was hiding something major from her, she still somehow felt secure and at peace by his side. She had just started to warm towards her new home when the day she learned exactly why the prince didn’t want her anywhere near the throne room ultimately came.

**_Rhaegar_ **

“The tension is too obvious, Jon. It is not the right time yet. An early conflict could ruin all our work thus far.” Rhaegar said in frustration, running a hand through his hair. His father went back to his habit of not attending the council meetings but the atmosphere during said meetings was getting rabidly more hostile every time. The division between the members who secretly supported that King Aerys was no longer able to rule and Rhaegar should make an early ascend to the throne and those who were in the King’s favour and wished to continue enjoying the many benefits by keeping him right where he was–consequences be damned–was becoming too loud. Rhaegar suspected that it was only a matter of time before the wrong words were spoken in the presence of the wrong person, starting a quarrel that could lead to a premature war.

“You think I’m not doing everything in my power to convince them to quiet down? Perhaps you should marry the girl as soon as possible and leave for Dragonstone right away. Your absence from court is surely going to help ease the tension, at least until we have the numbers ready.” Jon Connington suggested in a soothing tone.

Rhaegar considered the idea. It was true that his absence would put out some of the fires but things would never truly quiet down until some sort of agreement was met. And leaving those who supported him here while he was away would mean risking them being executed by Aerys if he suspected that his reign was in any real danger. On the other hand taking them with him would be as good as branding them traitors in his father’s eyes, confirming his suspicions.

He could feel his anger boiling again. He’d come so far with his plans and convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. For the realm, for his mother, for his brother…for himself. But now that he was so close to finally taking action, he finally realized that there was no way out of this that didn’t end with war. His father would never willingly step down, that much was clear. But he had to at least try and negotiate with him from Dragonstone. Try to avoid–

Rhaegar’s thoughts were interrupted by his chamber’s door bursting open. Amir all put ran inside the room, panting with a panicked expression on his face.

Arthur came in behind him. “He said that Jaime told him to run straight to you,” he informed the prince.

“What? You and ser Jaime are supposed to be guarding Melelna’s door. Why did he send you here?” Rhaegar asked, trying keep his voice calm. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what Melelna’s personal guard had to say.

Amir looked confused and horrified all at the same time. “The Lord Commander came to Melelna’s solar. He said that the King was holding court and expected all the nobles to attend, including Melelna. Ser Jaime protested—badly—but the Lord Commander said that those were the orders of the King and he would wait outside until Melelna dressed. Ser Jaime went with them but told me to stay behind and come find you. He said to tell you what happened and you would understand. What is happening? Why did ser Jaime not want her to attend court?”

“Damn him!” Rhaegar shouted, kicking up from his chair. “Arthur, go find out why he is holding court. Quickly!” he commanded and started pacing the room.

“What.Is.Happening.” Amir growled. “Is Melelna in danger? Answer me damn it!”

“I don’t know!” Rhaegar snapped. “We have to wait for Arthur. This could be really bad or it could be nothing. I don’t bloody know!”

Amir stared at him dumbfounded, hands fisted at his sides. He closed his eyes tightly and visibly tried to subdue his rage. When he opened them again he stared at the door. Rhaegar stopped pacing and did the same, both men waiting impatiently for Arthur. Rhaegar knew that Amir still didn’t comprehend what was happening around him but thankfully, he was smart enough to understand that following Rhaegar’s commands was his best course of action if he wanted to be of any help to Melelna.

After several long minutes Arthur appeared through the door, out of breath with an alert look in his eyes.

Rhaegar immediately tensed. _Gods, no_ , he prayed but knew that his plea would go unanswered when Arthur hesitated to meet his gaze.

“Lord Symond Staunton was found guilty of treason an hour ago. He failed to fulfil his duties as master of laws when he was commanded to find those who attacked lady Melelna in Harrenhal and he will be made an example so it is known what happens when the King’s generosity is rewarded with failure and scarce efforts.” Arthur explained. Rhaegar knew his friend was reciting the words of his father. They had to inform the king of the attempt on Melelna’s life and Rhaegar awaited for an outrage but he didn’t expect the King to take it this far. They hadn’t considered how close Melelna’s room was to that of the King, and that was the first thing his father pointed out when he heard of the assassination attempt. Whoever got so close to Melelna could have as easily gotten to him.

“Where is she?” Rhaegar practically growled. He didn’t want her to witness the vile execution. Not like this. He meant to talk to her, prepare her in case she heard whispers about in the streets. Now she got a front row seat and he was helpless to stop it.

Arthur lowered his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. She is already in the throne room. Your presence is also expected. I asked Jaime to try and explain to her what is about to happen but…well I don’t think anyone is ever likely to react well when they witness it for the first time.”

“Witness what for the first time?” Amir asked, looking even more confused than he did before.

Arthur stood in front of Amir and gripped both his shoulders. “I know there is no way anyone can convince you to stay behind and wait this out but I’m going to try to anyway. For your sake and hers—”

“No!” Amir insisted, shifting out of his hold. “What if she needs me? I’m supposed to always be there when she needs me!”

“If you do come with, you are going to do exactly as I say. No matter what you see or hear, you have to keep quiet and let it play out. There is nothing you can do to stop it, do you understand?” Arthur warned. “If you make a scene, you will only make it worse. For you and Melelna both.”

Amir nodded. “I won’t say a word. Just take me with.” He vowed.

Their walk to the throne room was quiet. Rhaegar tried to think of what to say to Melelna to try and make this easier for her but came up blank every time. There was nothing that could make this easier. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t truly blame her if she took a ship and took off for Volantis as soon as it is over.

He found her standing a few feet away from the tall throne, stiff with wide eyes as ser Jaime whispered in her ear. She spotted Rhaegar approaching and pinned her eyes on him, pleading.

The prince shook his head apologetically and hastened his pace towards her. When he reached her, he took hold of her hand and stood close by her side. “I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I never meant for you to see this and if there was anything I could do to change these circumstances, I swear it to you I would.”

Her shoulders sagged and she lowered her head in resignation.  He lightly squeezed her hand and lifted his gaze to the monstrous throne. His father sat proud on it, the enormous red gold crown resting heavy on his head. The gemstone eyes of each dragon on the crown’s points glittered as his tilted his head towards the prince’s direction. The king barely bothered with them for a few seconds before his attention was once again on the scene that was unfolding in the middle of the large hall.

Rhaegar could only watch as Lord Symond Staunton was being suspended from the rafters of the room, screaming and begging for the King to show mercy. He glanced to Melelna. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes open but not appearing to be seeing what was happening right in front of her.

Then his father’s pyromances moved forward, one of them holding a small jar. They crouched under Lord Symond and soon green flames appeared, small at first but getting bigger as the two men retreated to a safe distance away.

Everybody but the man being eaten alive slowly by the emerald blaze, was silent. Melelna was so still beside him, she might as well have been made of stone. The flames started to lick higher, crawling up the man’s body. When his screams turned from desperate to hysteric, he felt Melelna’s grip around his hand tighten to the point of becoming painful. He let her squeeze as hard as she had to if it meant she could get through this.

He heard his father’s roaring laugh coming from the direction of the throne and after only a few seconds, it was the only sound in the room as the shrieks of the former master of laws died. The hollow look in Melelna’s beautiful eyes made Rhaegar consider regicide for the first time.

The scent of roasted meat filled his nostrils and he felt the contents of his stomach fighting to climb up his throat. He struggled to ignore the smell and focused on Melelna. She still hadn’t said a word or released her grip around his fingers. He gently tagged her hand and started to walk towards the back of the room, behind the throne. She obediently moved with him, her gaze still shadowed and refusing to meet his own.

He led her out of the throne room by a small private door and didn’t try to talk to her until they were outside her chamber door inside the Maidenvault.

“Stay here,” Rhaegar commanded Arthur, Jaime and Amir, who had trailed behind them.

Melelna walked straight to the bed and hastily kicked off her sandals before she climbed on it and curled around herself, tightly hugging a velvet pillow.

Rhaegar hesitantly joined her and after half-laying next her, back on the headboard, he hauled her up into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder.

When he started petting soothingly her hair, he felt her composure start to break. She lightly shivered at first, then started silently weeping on his doublet. Her sobs became louder and more frequent as more time passed but Rhaegar didn’t stop running his hands through her hair.

Eventfully she quieted and when the prince was sure she gave into sleep, he gently placed a pillow under her head and covered her with a fur blanket. He threw a few logs into the barely burning fire and lit the candles in her room, in case it was dark when she woke.

He left the Maidenvault only after giving strict orders to ser Jaime and Amir to send for him as soon as she woke. Amir still looked haunted and conflicted when the prince gave him the order but at Arthur’s encouraging nod, he complied.

Neither the Kingsguard nor the shadow came for him that day. The next morning when he visited the Maidenvault to see how Melelna was coping, he was informed by ser Jaime that the Lady was feeling unwell and Maester Pycelle—who had examined her last night—suggested that she stays abed for a day or two, until she feels better.

He tried every morning for the next four days but she still refused to see him. He had just started to consider bursting into her room uninvited. She’d have to talk to him if she wanted to confront him about not respecting her wishes and he desperately needed to hear her voice. It turns out, he didn’t have to do all that.

A soft knock came from his door as he was about to bite into his supper. He put his fork down on his plate and rose from the table.

His eyes widened when Arthur slowly pushed the door open and he found Melelna waiting for an invitation to enter.

“Melelna,” he blurted and quickly strode to her. “Please come inside, did you have supper?” he asked, beckoning the plates of food behind him.

She shook her head and reluctantly walked passed him, taking a seat on the table.

He closed the door and sat next to her, wondering if she had come to tell him that she wished to return to Volantis. He caught her eying the roasted pork with disgust and called for a servant to take it away. He could very much understand what it reminded her of.

She only touched the lemon soup, not saying a word to him while she ate. Rhaegar let her finish her food and speak in her own time. She had come to him willingly but he was terrified that if he pressured her she would just bolt out the door as quick as she came. She sure looked like she was about to. From the expression on her face, he suspected that she wasn’t even certain what it was that she came for.

“I don’t blame you, if that’s what you are thinking. And I don’t want to leave. You can tell ser Jaime to stop trying to ask me if I plan to go back home. I mean…I do want to leave but only King’s Landing, not you.” She suddenly told him, making him release a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Also, don’t tell me you are sorry again. It’s not your fault. But I still needed some days to process what happened and decide what I want to do when my mind was clear.”

“We can’t leave before our wedding,” Rhaegar softly reminded her.

“I know,” she said. “Let’s have it then. My father would understand. Besides, my parents married in a Valyrian ceremony. We can have the wedding here as soon as possible and leave for Dragonstone. When and if my father decides to visit, we can have a small Valyrian ceremony for him and my brothers there.”

Despite the circumstances, Rhaegar beamed at her. He got off his chair and pulled her up too, wrapping his arms around her. “After all you saw, you still want to marry me?” he asked before kissing her brow.

He could sense the tension leaving her body as she rested her palms on his chest. “Only if you promise not to ever make me regret it. Swear to me you would never…”

“I won’t, you won’t regret it. There are so much I want to tell you but it’s not safe yet. I promise after we settle on Dragonstone, things are going to change. Just give me some time, then I’ll tell you everything.”

She slightly nodded her head and started to speak but her words were cut short when Arthur walked back inside the chamber.

“Apologies for interrupting, but this is urgent.” The Kingsguard announced.

“What is it now?” Rhaegar asked, irritated.

“Just got word from the docks. A Volantene galley just arrived. The captain is Lady Melelna’s brother. Vinar Vhassar. He requests leave to enter the Red Keep.”

Melelna gasped. “Vinar is here? Where? Take me to him!”

“No,” Rhaegar objected, a little too harshly. “You are staying exactly where you are. Arthur, send an escort to bring him here. His men can enter the Red Keep but only he comes through the drawbridge.”  

  

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter VIII | Safety and Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content so if you wish to avoid it stop reading at the paragraph which starts with bold text.

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna impatiently bit her lip as she waited for ser Oswell to return with her brother. She hadn’t seen Vinar in four long years; the last time she laid eyes upon her beloved brother being the day before he left.

Vinar used to send letters from time to time, describing his exploits along with some sort of gift from the place he was visiting while he wrote the letter, but that was all the communication she had with him while he was away.

She thought he would return after delivering their father’s shipments but he took leave to stay on deck and according to his letters, he went as far as the Jade Sea. Melelna’s worry over some mishap befalling on her brother while he was playing captain never truly withered over the years. Her only comfort was that Vinar, despite his easy ways and eagerness for adventure and generally trouble, was for the most part a prudent young man. And her father of course insisted that he took two more ships with him, each with its own seasoned captain.

“If you keep biting your lip like that, your brother might get the wrong idea when he sees how swollen it is,” Rhaegar warned in a playful tone, obviously trying to ease her tension.

“I haven’t seen Vinar in four years. So many things have happened since he left. He surely is going to have questions…” She hadn’t actually realized how nervous she was about the inevitable conversation with Vinar she would have to endure, describing certain horrors that occurred in his absence. She’d tell him the truth, she decided. If he chose not to believe her again, well then… _no, he must believe me, Amir’s scars are proof enough_.

“Perhaps,” Rhaegar allowed. “But I’m certain his priority right now is to be reunited with his little sister.”

She smiled at the prince. Her worries momentarily left her and instead, she wondered what her brother would make of Rhaegar. Hopefully he would approve. Nyessos’s opinions ceased being a concern to her a long time past, but she always looked for Vinar’s approval—as she later looked for that of Amir.

After what felt like hours, ser Oswell finally returned. A tall man was behind him. Wide shoulders, crooked nose and a light silvery-blonde stubble. All attributes that Vinar did not possess the last time he was in her presence. He’d also trimmed his hair to a shorter, tidier style. Her mother used to say that her youngest son was a slow grower and obviously she had the right of it because her brother appeared to have aged ten years in the four that have passed.

She moved her gaze to his eyes and couldn’t help her lips from breaking into a wide smile. The mischievous smirking expression, which reminded her of a sly silvery fox, was the one thing that hadn’t changed at all. Expect now that he looked more like a man, it gave him a suggestive aura that surely had maidens’ hearts flattering all the way from Volantis to the Jade Sea.

“Little puss,” He grinned at her and lifted his arms expectantly.

She rushed forward, locking her arms tightly around him and breathing him in for a few silent moments. “Your hair’s longer, almost to your waist now like you wanted,” she heard him murmur as he run his fingers through her silvery mane.

“Yours’s shorter,” she remarked, a fervent tear escaping down her cheek. How she’d missed Vinar. More than she’d ever realized until she felt the familiar security of his embrace. For a wistful moment, she was on the pebble narrow beach in Lys again—where she’d spent most of her childhood before her father was elected Triarch in Volantis. Her lady mother was singing a song about little hatchlings and silver wings, sitting cross-legged on the sand beside her. All three of her brothers splashing and giggling in the crystalline green-blue water. She timidly stepped back from him and hastily brushed away the tear.

“This is Prince Rhaegar,” Melelna began. “If you are here, then you’ve read the letter he’d sent, father?”

The lines on her brother’s face visibly relaxed. Likely because he could hear in her tone that she was here by her own free will. “Yes. I’m afraid father won’t be able to make it to your wedding, love.” He said apologetically.

Melelna nodded. “I expected as much. He is a Triarch, his place is in Volantis,” She assured him earnestly. Her father would need to be away from his seat for at least two months if he was to travel to Westeros, even for a short stay. That would be catastrophic for his campaign and the elections were only a few moons away.

Vinar turned to Rhaegar. “It’s good to meet you, your grace. Pardon my ignorance, but I didn’t have the time become familiar with Westerosi customs. Am I meant to kneel?”  

Rhaegar chuckled. “It’s good to meet you too Vinar. No, there is no need for you to kneel. ” He gestured towards the pillowed chairs by the hearth. “From what Melelna has told me, you two haven’t been in each other’s company for quite some time. You can have the room until I make accommodation arrangements for you and your party. I will be back in an hour.”

“Thank you,” Melelna said and gave the prince a small kiss on the cheek before dragging Vinar by the sleeve to the chairs.

They sat opposite of one another. The door closed with a soft thud behind Rhaegar and for a hundred heartbeats, only the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth disturbed the silence of the dim room.

“I missed you so much, my sweet,” Vinar said with a heavy sigh. “I almost didn’t believe father when he said that you were at sea.”

Melelna laughed. “Didn’t think he’d ever actually allow it, did you?”

Her brother shook his head, grinning. “No, not truly. Nyessos had a fit I take it?”

“He wasn’t in Volantis when I left, thank the Gods.”

“Mel,” Vinar started in a regretful tone. “It was folly not to listen to you about Nyessos. I shouldn’t have dismissed your concerns that day,” He admitted, causing Melelna’s head to jerk up, eyes wide. She’d told him nothing about Nyessos thus far. Their father wasn’t aware of what had occurred inside his walls while he was absent from the palace. Only her nursemaid knew but Elyse wouldn’t betray her confidence. _Unless something has happened…_

“What changed your mind, Vinar?” She reluctantly asked.

Vinar rose from his chair and crouched in front of her, taking her hand between both his own. “When the messenger came, Nyessos nearly had him whipped. Father forbade it of course and sent the man on his way with some silver for his trouble. I might be wrong, but from the way father reacted to the letter…he might have been expecting it Mel, that and how he agreed to let you sail here…I can’t be certain, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he somehow had a hand in this. In any case, Nyessos protested to the match and proposed that you be wed to him instead, talking his usual horseshit about the Valyrian customs of old. We quarrelled and, well… here I am.” His eyes lightened the slightest bit. “Your little romance with the prince worked out well for me to be honest, little sis. Father was about to shove me out of the palace when the messenger arrived, but after Nyessos’s tantrum, the two ships I lost must’ve been the least of his concerns.”

Melelna gasped. “You lost two of father’s ships?” It still didn’t sound like a good enough reason to kick Vinar out of the palace. Her father had at least six hundred other ships.

“Yes…and they might have been full of gems and gold…” he confessed, sounding like a naughty child who broke his mother’s favourite bowl.

“How did you ‘ _lose_ ’ them?” Melelna asked with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

Vinar returned to his seat. Mischief danced in his lilac eyes. “A storm, as far as father is concerned.”

“And in truth?” she prompted.

“I traded them, crew and all,” He stated with a wave of his hand as if it was routine business to trade two ships stocked with merchandise and valuables, along with the slaves who manned them.

Melelna blinked at him. “Traded them for _what_?”

His lips curved into a roguish grin. “Let’s leave that discussion for another day. I want to hear about what happened while I was away.” Vinar’s expression sobered. “I heard about Lysandro. You know I was fond of the boy. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

She took a deep breath and mentally armoured herself for the conversation that would follow. “There is something you need to know about Lysandro. But before I say the words, I need you to swear an oath that you will not repeat this to anyone—especially father—no matter how wroth you might feel by the time that I finish.”

Her brother’s eyes found hers and narrowed. “You are scaring me, Mel. My lips are sealed, I swear it. Go on.”

Melelna struggled to find her voice. In truth, she didn’t know where to begin. At first, like everybody else, she’d thought that Lysandro had been robbed in Lys. An unfortunate death, but not an abnormal one for young rich lords daring to walk the dark alleys under-guarded. They had brought his body back to Volantis and burned it in an ancient ceremony inside the Black Walls. During said ceremony was when Melelna first suspected that it wasn’t a thief who had killed her betrothed.

Nyessos’s secret smile when he glanced her way while the blaze consumed Lysandro’s body had caused her blood to run cold. Later that week, when her father didn’t return to the palace for the night and her oldest brother had free reign to behave as he pleased, her suspicions were confirmed.

The hairs on her back of her neck bristled at the memory of that night’s events—and how much worse it could have been, for her and Amir both. “I only needed a few more moons to convince father to break that insulting betrothal to that arrogant little shit. But you had to go and spread your legs wide for him like some common whore!” Nyessos had raged at her before she witnessed him completely lose his wits for the first time. He had blamed her for having to kill Lysandro, making it all sound like it was her fault since she’d forced his hand by allowing her betrothed in her bed. He also proceeded to blame their mother and her Lysene love goddess. “Father was a cunt-driven fool. Allowing her to continue preaching about her harlot Goddess while inside the ancient walls and filling your head with her carnal teachings was the start of all this!” He had said. She’d soon realized that Nyessos was in his cups as he’d ceased her shoulders and hysterically shook her while shouting insults, washing her with his wine-reeking breath.

He’d intended to do more than shake her that night. And he would’ve succeeded too if it wasn’t for Amir’s intervention. Nyessos had ordered him executed for daring to raise a hand to his master. In her desperate attempt to convince Nyessos to spare him, she’d told him the truth about who had truly brought Amir into this world. It was silly to assume that her brother had a gentle side that she could appealed to, using the memory of their mother, but it was her last resort. Nyessos did spare him in the end. But not before having him whipped until his legs gave out from under him and only the shackles around his wrists kept his body upright to suffer the rest of his long punishment. She knew Nyessos had only agreed to let him live because he had planned to use her affection towards her half-brother to make her more agreeable to his demands.

She anxiously gave Vinar the short version of the story and by the time that she’d stopped talking, her brother was so still in his chair with such a cold look in his eyes, he might as well have been carved out of ice.

“Why haven’t you told father?” Vinar asked in a voice so chill, she almost didn’t recognize it.

“Amir,” She reluctantly explained. “I had to tell him, Vinar. Nyessos was going to kill him.” Vinar was the only one there when their mother sat them down on the beach by their summer palace in Lys and made them promise to always look after Amir. Even then, their mother didn’t trust Nyessos with the task due to his overly competitive nature, and she knew that her two younger children didn’t keep secrets for one another.

“He knows about Amir and he hasn’t told father?” Vanir let out a sardonic snort and answered his own question. “Of course he hasn’t. He probably figured that keeping his mouth shut is the only way to discourage you from telling father about Lysandro.”

“You promised, Vinar,” She sternly reminded him. “You shan’t compromise Amir. I cared greatly about Lysandro and I suffered my share of self-loathing over the matter of his death, but I love our bastard brother more.”

He gave her an uncertain look but finally nodded. “Amir is here with you. As soon as you wed the prince, father will not have any say about who lives and who dies in your household. I know that you don’t want him to feel betrayed after all he’s done for us but if Nyessos tries to lay a hand on you again I’ll give him the story myself, along with a warning to our dear brother to lose himself in the free cities unless he wishes for me to become the first kinslayer in our family’s histories.”

“He won’t!” Melelna assured him. “Don’t say such things, Vinar. He is our brother. He never attempted it after that night, I swear. Perhaps he regretted doing it, and now that father has refused him, he won’t have a choice but to take a bride in Volantis and leave me be.” She said the words, for Vinar’s sake. But she never believed them. _At least now I won’t have to explain to father why I don’t plan on inviting Nyessos to my wedding,_ she mused.

Vinar lifted his chin towards the chamber’s door. “What about _him_? Is _he_ good to you?”

Melelna’s eyes lightened up and a small smile appeared on her lips. Vinar gave an amused laugh before she could answer his question. “That bad, eh?” he chuckled. “Your eyes were always quick to betray your feelings, Mel. Ever since you were little.”

She made a face at him. “And you? Father didn’t find a nice wealthy noble lady for you to marry yet?”

“Oh, he found plenty,” He said with a hint of annoyance. “Not that it matters now.”

“Oh?” Melelna arched a brow at him.

“You shall write him a letter, telling him that you need me by your side in this strange land. Insisting that you shall find me a lovely Westerosi Lady to eventually wed and sire a litter of silver haired whelps on—and needless to say, expand his businesses to this side of the narrow sea while at it.”

“Shall I now?” Melelna laughed, shaking her head.

“And to think that I actually believed you missed me,” He pouted in that way only Vinar could.

“Of course I missed you. And I want you here Vinar, it’s only…” she hesitated, considering how to inform him about the horror she witnessed in the throne room. She had half a mind not to tell him but decided against it. The King might have another outburst and the last thing she wished for was for Vinar to find out the same dreadful way she did.

She gave him a brief description, sparing him the hideous details and making certain to get it in his head that Rhaegar had nothing to do with it and planned to take her out of this city as soon as possible.

Vinar sighed. “I’m staying nonetheless. I may have never watched a man get burned alive by wildfire but I’ve seen my fair share of brutality while sailing east, little sister,” He declared before softening his tone. “I brought something with me that might make your days here a little more pleasant.”

**_Rhaegar_ **

Rhaegar had housed her brother and his small entourage on a different floor in the Maidenvault. After the prince had returned to his solar, he escorted them out of Maegor’s Holdfast and across the drawbridge. He nodded in acknowledgement at Prince Lewyn—who was posted at the far end of the drawbridge—and turned his gaze to Melelna. She was looking at her brother expectantly as they walked, hand in hand.

“What have you brought me, Vinar?” The prince heard Melelna ask her brother as they neared the entrance to the long building.

“Not what, _who_ ,” Vinar remarked cheerfully as he pointed a finger towards the group of Volantenes who were leaning on the wall by the door.

At first glance, Rhaegar took them for guardsmen. All dressed in black, faces concealed under the hoods of their capes, but only two of them appeared to be carrying swords strapped to their hips. The unarmed one started walking in their direction and raised a hand to push back his hood. It was a woman, Rhaegar realized as soon as her face was visible. Before he could have time to speculate about who she might be, Melelna let out a small squeal and took off, running to the advancing Volantene.

She was a handsome woman, Rhaegar supposed. Tall with reddish blonde hair and cat-like sapphire eyes. She must’ve been well past her thirtieth nameday, maybe her fortieth, but age didn’t yet begin to diminish her beauty.

“Elyse!” Melelna exclaimed and gave the woman an affectionate hug. “Oh my sweet Elyse, how I’ve missed u.”

“My lady looks like a true Westerosi princess,” Elyse enthusiastically announced, taking a step back and running her gaze up and down Melelna’s form. “Your lady mother would be pleased.”

Rhaegar was soon informed that Elyse was Amir’s mother and Westerosi-born. Daughter of some bastard from the westerlands who thought to try his luck by selling his sword in Essos. The woman had served mother and daughter for almost twenty years; first in the family’s summer palace in Lys and later inside the Black Walls of Volantis. Rhaegar recalled the conversation he had with Melelna regarding Amir. She’d said his mother was a slave who her own lady mother had bought when Melelna was born. He wondered how the woman ended up a slave if her father was a free man but knew better than to ask.

The prince left the Vhassar’s to their reunion and retreated to Maegor’s Holdfast for the night. He visited his mother before returning to his chambers to inform her of his intent to wed Melelna as soon as possible and leave for Dragonstone. The queen did not think his plan a wise one. “If you rush to wed the girl and flee the city, men will find a thousand different ways to interpret your actions,” His mother had cautioned. “Some will say that you were too smitten to wait to bed your beautiful young lady. Others might claim that you already bedded her and got her prematurely with child. But the worst of them…” His mother didn’t have to say the rest. The worst of them would go straight to his father and sing about schemes and plots and betrayal. _And for once, they will have the right of it._

The next week had passed without any significant incident—save for a bird from the north, carrying the invitation to the Stark wedding that would take place in four moons’ turn in Riverrun. Rhaegar knew better than to display interest in making the journey to Lord Hoster’s castle. Instead, he masked his face with indifference when the news were brought to him and made a remark about the worsening weather and how it would foul the moods of those who made the journey to attend. His father’s latest favourite activities were to burden, vex and inconvenience his firstborn son, and Rhaegar had counted on that. He wasn’t wrong. The King had _commanded_ him to attend in his stead and represent the royal family along with lady Melelna, who would be his wife by then.

Melelna had taken to exploring King’s Landing and the surrounding lands. Her frequent expeditions outside the safety of the Red Keep’s walls were acutely worrisome for the prince, but he didn’t have the heart to deny her—especially after he had informed her that their wedding would not take place until they were betrothed for an appropriate amount of time, which according to his mother was three long months.

To his horror, she had even walked the dirty unpaved alleys of Flea Bottom. A large entourage consisting of both Targaryen household knights and her own Volantene guards accompanied her, to be sure, but he still had made his feelings on the matter crystal clear.

She wasn’t in her solar when he sought to break his fast with her so he’d send Arthur to find out where she wandered off to this early in the morning. He knew she must be somewhere inside the Red Keep since he’d given strict commands to be made aware of her departures. It didn’t take long for the Kingsguard to return to his chambers with her location.

“Lady Melelna wished to make the most of the clear skies and break her fast in the gardens,” Arthur told him.

“With your sister?” Rhaegar asked.

Arthur hesitated. “Yes, along with her handmaiden, her brother and some others.”

“What others?”

“You see…Some of your household knights and visiting young lords have taken to accompanying the two ladies.” Arthur seem to weight his next words. “Most appear to be trying to court Ashara, but… According to Jaime, it is obvious that in fact, it is lady Melelna they hold the torch for, not my sweet sister.”

Rhaegar blinked at him, aghast. “Have they completely lost their wits? If they wish to die that much, they should have just said so.”

“They mean no harm, Rhaegar,” Arthur assure him. “They are only imprudent boys, stricken by her beauty. They shower her with compliments and follow her around like a pack of lost pups but none of them is foolish enough to try and seduce her.”

“The attention is to be expected, your grace,” Ser Oswell broke in. “Did you know that in the barracks they started calling her ‘lady Shiera Seastar reborn’? Her mother was Lyseni too and—”

“Shiera, for all her great beauty, bedded half the court. Pitting brother against brother while at it.” Rhaegar snapped.

Oswell sighed. “Lady Shiera was a masterful seductress, to be sure. But I don’t think anyone meant offense to lady Melelna. It’s the greatbastard’s wits and charm they see in your lady, not her tendencies to play games for her amusement under the sheets.”

Rhaegar sighed and let it go. His Kingsguard had the right of it, he knew. “She is a learned woman but her knowledge is still poor when it comes to Westerosi customs and traditions. Especially where The Faith is concerned. I want you to find a septa—a young one preferably—and instruct her to educate Melelna in the ways of The Seven. I don’t expect her to embrace the faith but she should at least be able to pretend that she does, should the need arise.”

“Young, aye. But see that you don’t send her a pretty one. That brother of hers lifted quite a few skirts in his short time in the city. The faith wouldn’t take it lightly if rumours were to spread about him bedding septas too,” Oswell cautioned, amusement evident in his tone.

The prince didn’t really know what to make the brother yet. The man had already made his way through half the brothels in the Street of Silk and if the whispers were to be believed, one or two highborn ladies were seen discreetly leaving his chambers too. Melelna told him of her brother’s intent to reside in Westeros with her and she sounded so pleased and excited by the prospect that Rhaegar could do nothing but nod and share her enthusiasm.

He decided to wait for her to return from the gardens in her solar. After Belio admitted him inside, he called for some servants to light the hearth and bring something for him to break his fast on.

The prince made quick work of the fruits and honeyed bread and relaxed on the window seat, taking in the room around him. She’d scarcely made any changes to the chambers, he realized. Except for the area by the east window. There was a tall oak desk against the wall, different kinds of paints and supplies tidily stacked upon it. Directly next to it stood a dark-wood tripod, holding a tall and wide canvas. A sheer blanket of crimson silk was draped over the canvas so Rhaegar could not see the picture hidden underneath.

His curiosity got the better of him so he stood and strode to Melelna’s little art corner. She’d promised to show him her drawings but the opportunity hadn’t yet presented itself.

Before he could reach the tripod however, his attention shifted to a leather-cover book, resting on the foot of the desk. There was an outline of a naked woman worked upon its cover in threat of glittering gold. He was sure he’d seen that illustration before but he couldn’t recall where.

He picked up the book and examined it. The leather was a little worn at places but it appeared to be have been taken care of for the most part. He glanced at the woman on its front again and frowned.

The prince’s brows drew tightly together as he stared at it in concentration, focusing to remember where he’d glanced her form before. _The love goddess of Lys,_ he suddenly recalled. _The same as the stamp on their coins._

He unbound the leather strap that held the book tightly shut and opened it on the first page. He was greeted by a very life-like sketch of a posing lady. At first he’d taken her for Melelna; with her waist-long hair flowing gracefully over her shoulders curled in the Lyseni style, and her airy low-cut Volantene gown. The details on the woman’s face also matched Melelna’s features but at second glance, Rhaegar realized that the woman looked at least a decade older than his lady.

 _Such splendid detailed work,_ he thought. He’d seen countless books of illustrations in the libraries of Oldtown and he was sure that Melelna’s handiwork could match the most famous of them.

Rhaegar judged that the woman on the page must be Lady Minesa Vhassar, Melelna’s late lady mother. He’d heard some talk about how Lord Vhassar’s choice to wed a Lyseni from a family that was little more than jumped-up merchants caused many noses to wrinkle inside the Black Walls, but if the mother was anything like the daughter, he couldn’t truly blame the man.

He flipped to the next page, and stilled.

A scarlet scaled beast stared back at him with golden reptilian eyes. Its wings were spread open wide, its maw gapping and breathing fire on some unseen foe.

He studied the drawing, taking in every tiny detail. And there were many, _too_ _many_ details. A lot of artists still brought dragons back to life on wood and paper, but most of those illustrations are works of the minds of the men who drew them. This… this was life-like, he realized with wide eyes. He would know, because he had in fact seen that very dragon before. _No, it can’t be the same one._ _It’s been years since that dream. One red dragon can look the same as another_ , He tried to convince himself. _The eyes_ , a silent voice argued.

Another impressive portrayal of the same creature followed on the page after. This time the reptilian was laying on his belly, curled around its powerful body; his crest and horns a vivid copper, same as its sharp claws.  

The next page showed a close up of its angry watchful eyes. He felt the hair on his nape bristle as he held that yellow unblinking gaze, and for a mere second, he thought he saw flames flicker bright amber in the golden pools. But as soon as he blinked they were gone. _Could it be? Could she have the magic?_ She had the look for it, to be sure, but that alone was scarcely enough. History had proven that time and time again.

He turned another page, and then another. More illustrations of the red dragon followed, each a different pose. Every so often, a drawing of a cobble beach would appear, or gardens of various types of flowers of the free cities. But it was mostly the creature, often flying or sleeping, other times staring back at Rhaegar as if it would jump right out of the book and spit scorching dragonflame through its long black teeth.

As he neared the end of the sketchbook, he came upon a picture of Sunspear. Tall and domed gilded towers looming over pale walls, and the cloudless sky above. She’d even drawn the Martells’ coat of arms on the left top corner of the page, a bright sun pierced by a spear. She done the same for Hightower; the heraldry of the house drawn above the tall castle and lighthouse that in reality stood higher than seven hundred feet tall; then there were the blackened walls of Harrenhal, with House Whent’s nine black bats. _Every castle she’d seen in Westeros_ , the prince thought. _But not the Red Keep._ He was unsure of what to make of that. It could mean little or less, she’d only been in King’s Landing for a short time. Perhaps she didn’t find the time to draw it yet.

The last occupied page of the heavy leather-bound book gave him pause. The red dragon again, except… there were two more dragons beside the monstrous creature. One was pale blue, striped with silver, the other a golden cream with scales touched by bronze.

The groan of the chamber’s door being pushed open caused his gaze to lift from the image.

Melelna walked inside, her eyes immediately finding him, and then the book in his hands. She didn’t look surprised to see him, Belio likely informed her that he was waiting within and she must’ve surely seen Oswell guarding the solar’s entrance. She did, however, seem uneasy as soon as she noticed him examining her drawings.

“Did I intrude?” the prince asked.

Melelna gave him a reserved smile and shook her head. “No, of course not, your grace,” She politely assured him but Rhaegar wasn’t convinced.

He returned to the window seat and beckoned her to take the second cushioned armchair on his side. He placed the open sketchbook on the small table in front of them.

“Impressive work,” he observed, tapping on the picture of the three dragons with a finger.

Melelna blushed slightly and lowered her gaze. “Your grace is too kind,” she timidly told him.

“No, not kind. I’m merely telling the truth, my lady. Did you have many books containing dragon illustrations in your libraries in Volantis? Is that how you learned to draw them so well?” He chose his words carefully so not to sound too eager for her answer.

She audibly swallowed and fidgeted with her hands. A short uncomfortable silence followed before she finally lifted her eyes to him and answered, “No, your grace. I never came across any such books in Volantis.”

“Then where have you glimpsed their forms?” This time it was impossible for Rhaegar to hide the raw curiosity of his tone.  

“They visit me, sometimes. They always have…well, at least him,” she admitted gesturing to the red one. “I used to be frightened of him at first, but he never hurt me so I grew out of that fear.” She paused, searching his face for a reaction.

“Dragons died out more than a century ago,” Rhaegar softly pointed out.

“I know that,” Melelna said defensively. “But in my dreams they still live.”

Rhaegar smiled. “It’s not uncommon for Targaryens to dream of dragons, you know.” He knew her reluctance was the result of fear. Many who didn’t have Valyrian blood rushing through their veins looked upon those who talked of dragons and vivid dreams with suspicion and even resentment. All because they could never understand the magic that is buried deep in the foundations of this world. “And the other two?” He asked, referring to the pale blue and golden cream reptilians of her last drawing.

“They only came once. On one of my first nights on Westerosi soil. I didn’t have another dream since that night,” She explained with a little sadness in her voice that he didn’t fail to take note of.

“That troubles you?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” She was fidgeting again. “I know they are not real and that they could offer me no true comfort. I don’t know why they come in the night and it could mean little or less, but…when I dream of him, I feel…safe.”

“I see,” the prince said and closed the book on the table. He stood and leaned on the window sill, gazing out at the city. “Come,” he beckoned her to join him.

When she obliged he pointed north, where Rhaeny’s hill overshadowed the twisty alleys and cross streets of Flea Bottom. “Have you been told what that building is?”

“The Dragonpit,” she answered immediately, “I asked ser Jaime once if we could go there but he said that it was too dangerous considering how much of a ruin the building is. He said that what remains of its dome could fall on our heads.”

Rhaegar’s lips curved. “Ser Jaime spoke true. The doors have been sealed shut for a reason.” He shifted his position to stand behind her and slid his arms around her slim form to rest them on her middle. “My family used to house our dragons there but the last one died long before my time. We still keep their skulls in the throne room for all the good that it does us.”

“I know.” Melelna said softly and placed her small hand over one of his own her tummy. “I don’t think he’d like it in there,” she muttered in a whisper so low, it was barely audible.

“Who? The red dragon?” He asked and lifted his free hand to gently stroke abstract patterns on her bare shoulder. She wore a thin gown of cloth of silver today, courtesy of the pleasant weather. Melelna preferred garments of very few layers and Rhaegar was fully supportive of her choice. Hopefully the skies would remain tranquil until after their wedding day.

Melelna slightly shivered at his touch. “Yes. When he comes to me, it’s always under the endless sky, on some windy hill or a mountain top,” she told him in a voice that was huskier than before.

 **He wanted to talk to her about the dragon** , he truly did. But as he felt her relax in his hold and let her head fall back against his shoulder, the prince’s priorities quickly shifted. He was suddenly fully aware of every part of her body that was in contact with his, especially the shapely curves of her rear currently pressed against his groin. The flowery aroma of her hair perfume dulled his senses even further as the silver strands tickled his nose.

Rhaegar turned her in his arms and pulled her flush against him. She looked startled at his sudden boldness, but only for half a heartbeat before she offered a consenting smile and looked up at him in sensual anticipation. He took it for the invitation it was and slowly lowered his lips down on hers. Gently at first, savouring the sweet taste of her mouth.

The prince’s hands wandered lower, sliding over her hips to come to a stop cupping her lovely ass, fingers digging into her flesh as if he was frightened to let go in case she disappeared. His kiss turned aggressively demanding and she eagerly responded to him, opening her mouth and greedily stroking her tongue against his own.

Melelna gripped his doublet with both hands and moaned softly into his mouth. The sensual sound of her wanting was his harsh pull back to reality, a small vague voice reminding him that doing this could cost him.

Rhaegar had to gather every bit of the little self-control he had left to break the kiss and release his hold on her, putting a small distance between them. His eyes went on her chest, staring at it as rose and fell with her rabid breaths. He forced his gaze to her eyes and cleared his throat. “This could have consequences,” he said and tried to sound convincing. Which one of the two of them he was trying to convince, he couldn’t tell.

“Consequences?” she asked, trying and failing to conceal the disappointment in her tone.

  _Gods, don’t tempt me. This is hard enough as it is._ “If by chance I got you pregnant before the wedding, the paternity of the child could be questioned. And I won’t have you drinking moon tea. Women’s wombs sometimes continue to reject babes long after the consumption of the potion. I’d rather not risk it.”

Melelna licked her lips and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “There are other things we could do.” She blushed and lowered her gaze.

Rhaegar’s control on his lust began to abandon him. “Other things…” he echoed and shifted closer to her.

She retreated a step and her ass touched the window sill behind her. He gripped the wood on either side of her, locking her in. “Please do elaborate, my lady,” he prompted, almost not recognizing his own voice with how deep and low it had turned.

Her eyes lifted back up to find his, most of their soft violet concealed by dark dilated pupils. She’d told him that her mother was from Lys and even had mentioned that the late lady Minesa worshipped the love goddess but he hadn’t stopped to consider what that meant for Melelna. He’d assumed that even though she had a lover, she was still mostly naïve between the sheets. Lysandro had died when she was only six and ten and they were of an age so he was a green boy himself. He hadn’t took into account that she was half-Lyseni. _Thank the Gods for the mother. Old, new, red, valyrian, with one face or a thousand—the bloody lot of them._

“I’d rather show you, your grace,” she murmured, with a hint of playful challenge in her voice as she slowly run her hand down his abdomen and over the line of his trousers, stopping at his groin. It took all his willpower to stay still and let her explore. Any traces of shy hesitation appeared to have left her and he didn’t dare disturb her amorous mood.

Rhaegar took a step back to give her space and mimicked her challenging gaze. “Go right ahead,” he encouraged, dropping his hands at his sides.

Melelna gracefully lowered herself to her knees. She fumbled with the laces of his breaches, her eyes never leaving his. When she had them loosened, she pulled his trousers down to his hips and wickedly smiled up at him before closing her delicate fingers around his freed shaft.

He hissed. The image of her on the floor with her hands on him almost had him spilling his seed like a boygroom on the bedding of his wedding night.

Melelna teased him with her fingers; then with her mouth, leaving feathery kisses along his length, before finally closing her full lips around him, causing Rhaegar let out a deep groan and shut his eyes in ecstatic bliss.

When he opened them, he found the little minx intently watching him as she swallowed him in. She kept her movements agonizingly slow, making his hands twitch with the need to grip both sides of her beautiful head and show her precisely why she shouldn’t be so eager to provoke a dragon.

As she masterfully sucked him in and out her clever mouth, the prince was certain he’d never before experienced such glee. She took more of him, flattening her tongue. When he felt the back of her throat, Rhaegar’s control snapped. “To hell with caution,” he mumbled and he abruptly pulled her up to her feet.

He lifted her by the waist to carry her to the four-poster bed on the other side of the room. His quick movement caused her to let out a startled gasp before her long bare legs jerked out of the slashes of her gown to tightly wrap around his hips. Rheagar’s feet made quick steps on the myrish carpets while kicking off his boots, impatient to get out of his clothes to feel her naked skin on his.

Rhaegar dropped her softly on the feather-mattress and positioned himself on top of her, between her slightly spread legs. His mouth found the smooth skin of her neck, trailing kisses from her pulse up her jaw and at last finding the sweetness of her eager lips. He kissed her long and deep as his hands caressed their way to the straps of her gown and impatiently lowered them to reveal her naked bosom. Her own hands were fumbling with the silver buttons of his doublet. When she unfastened the last of them, Rhaegar broke the kiss and stood off the bed, shrugging out of it. His undertunic was next, being tossed on the floor after he hurriedly pulled it over his head.

 Never had Rhaegar been in such a haste to bury himself inside a woman. But then again, coupling had always been a relieving pleasure for him, a want of the flesh. This primitive need that she was awaking in him, which governed his senses until all he saw and heard and felt was her, was foreign to the prince. _Many a Targaryen had surrendered their hearts to Lyseni-born beauties over the centuries_ , he recalled.  _With damn good reason it would seem._

Rhaegar made quick work of removing the rest of his clothes, dropping them in a pile next to the bed. He felt himself growing even harder as he caught the way her eyes hooded while she sat up on her elbows and ran her gaze down his nude body. His own eyes must’ve turned dark as onyx as he took a moment to admire her spread on the bed for him, naked from the waist up.

He climbed back up on the bed and retook his position between her thighs, dipping his head to take a taut nipple into his mouth. Melelna arched under him and released a feminine low moan that had him thrusting his hips forward, rubbing on her through the layers that still blocked him from where he was eager to be.

She moved a hand between them and attempted to curl her fingers around his length again but he grasped her wrist, halting her efforts. “Let me touch you, Mel. If you continue to put your hands on me…” _I fear that I might shame myself by blowing up before I get to feel your heat._

He hadn’t said the words but she must’ve understood how feeble his grasp on his control was because she obeyed, letting both her hands fall on the soft mattress trustingly. Her lips curved into a suggestive smile, a silent invitation for him to do as he pleased.

“Gods,” he half-growled, half groaned. “You were made to be touched. Weren’t you, love?”

Melelna leisurely ran a finger down her torso, skimming the creamy skin between her breasts and around her navel to bring it to a stop on the line of her pelvis. “Then touch me, your grace.” She encouraged.

Rhaegar’s hold on the reins slipped.

He yanked her gown down her hips and she slightly lifted her body to help him slide it off her. Her smallclothes were being pulled off her next, leaving her completely bare before his hungry eyes. His gaze immediately found the silver curls between her thighs, moist with the evidence of her arousal.

He ran the thumb of one hand over a stiff rosy nipple while the fingers of the other teased her with feather touches on her inner thighs, never quite reaching the spot Melelna’s eyes appealed to him to find.

“ _Rhaegar_ ,” she pleaded, eyes half-closed and cheeks flushed.

He chuckled and stoked the glistening nub between her legs with his thumb, while one of his fingers slowly eased inside her to find her already wet and ready for him.

Melelna gasped and reached for his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh as he moved his finger in and out of her tightness while taking care not to neglect giving gentle rubs to her clit. He added another finger and quickened his pace, the wet sounds produced from his movements causing the blood running through his veins to boil with pure masculine need.

He removed his hand guided her to lay back on the silken sheets, pushing her legs to spread wider with his knee. She eagerly obliged and watched him with eyes clouded by desire as he closed his fingers around himself and guided his cock to her damp entrance.

Rhaegar took her mouth in a gentle kiss he plunged inside her, swallowing the cry that escaped her lips as he buried himself completely in one thrust. He kept still for a few moments, drowning in the feeling of her burning warmth around his cock.

“ _Please_ ,” she moaned and lifted her hips in sensual appeal making him to pulse. 

He slid out of her until only the tip was inside and slowly pushed back in, then did it again. He gradually increased the tempo of his thrusts and soon he was feeling the building pressure inside her, begging for release.

One hand crept between them, to where they were joined, adding to her pleasure by caressing her swollen nub; the other closing over a delicate breast. She moaned and whimpered beneath him, lifting her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, until he felt her muscles clench around him; her eyes rolling back in their sockets as she arched under him in total bliss.

His own release found him suddenly and he almost refrained from pulling out of her, unwilling to lose the feeling of her muscles squeezing him deeper inside her molten heat. He spilled his seed on her belly and breasts and for reasons that Rhaegar didn’t care to explore, the image gave a caress to his masculine pride, expression turning smug.  

For a few heartbeats, they both only stared at each other, panting and struggling to catch their breaths. Melelna gave at him a knowing smile and made a move to climb off the bed.

He quickly pushed her back down and arched a questioning brow. “Leaving so soon?”

She glanced down at the mess he had made on her abdomen. “I only meant to clean this up.”

He clutched a crimson silken bedsheet and wiped his seed off her skin with it, making her giggle. “There, all clean. Now, where were we?” he murmured and began to prepare her for round two.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter IX | Secrets and lost Bastards

**_Melelna_ **

“My lady, you surely _must_ see how this is not proper,” Septa Clarysse scolded, giving a disapproving glance toward Elyse.

Melelna sighed. “It’s warm outside, septa. I do admire your ability to walk about covered in so many layers in this heat but I wouldn’t expect the same from Elyse.”

“B-but, _my lady_ , s-she…I can see her…” The septa looked at Elyse again, looking horrified.

“You are exaggerating. You cannot see her anything. Her bosom is perfectly covered and so are her legs. Please, can we go now?” Elyse wore a two piece sea-green dress, her long legs fully covered by flowing skirts, but her middle was left exposed, courtesy of the small blouse that only concealed her breasts. Melelna thought her friend and handmaid looked beautiful, no matter what the septa said.

Ashara giggled beside Elyse. “I fear this is a battle you cannot hope to win, my sweet septa. And besides, we are only going to the gardens. Lady Melelna and I both dressed by your instructions, what does it matter what a handmaiden wears?”

Septa Clarysse’s shoulders sagged in resignation but she quickly straightened and masked her face with cold grace, giving a hesitant nod. It took all of Melelna’s willpower to swallow the laughter climbing up her throat.

Rhaegar suggested that a septa educates her while they wait for their wedding and Melelna looked forward to the lessons but the septa’s small outrages about Elyse’s attire or language was what she really loved about having the pious woman around.

Melelna did feel some remorse from time to time about finding the good septa’s constant distress amusing, but Elyse’s tenancies to ignore the woman completely and yawn through her instructions as if she wasn’t even there, didn’t help make the situation any less humorous.

She wondered what the septa would do if she became aware of the prince’s nightly visits. _Swoon most likely._ A small chuckle escaped her this time but she hastily composed herself and turned for the door.

Ser Jaime fell into step with Amir behind her small flock of ladies as they strode their way through the Red Keep. She was going to meet Prince Viserys today, after almost two moons’ turns since residing in King’s Landing. Melelna had asked Rhaegar about his little brother many times since coming to the city but he kept putting it off. She suspected that his father had something to do with it due to talk she heard around the keep, about how the King was overly protective of his youngest son to the extent of not even allowing the Queen unescorted in the child’s presence.

When they entered the Queen’s private gardens, she was welcomed by the lovely aroma of the blossoming roses that they grew here. The flowers appeared to be enjoying the warm weather as much as she did.

She spotted the Queen sitting on a marble bench by a small pond, a little boy seated on her lap and giggling up at Prince Lewyn who was dutifully standing on Queen Rhaella’s side.

As soon as the boy noticed them approaching, he abruptly pushed off his mother’s lap and quickly patted his little feet on the unpaved path in her direction.

“Are you the Lady Melelna?” he asked with obvious enthusiasm when he halted in front of her. “Mother says that you are to be my new sister.”

Melelna crouched and shuffled the little prince’s hair. “I am indeed Lady Melelna, your grace. It is a great honour to finally meet you. Does the prospect of me becoming your new sister please you?”

Prince Viserys considered that for a moment. “My mother is my father’s sister. You are very pretty, like her. I shall marry you when I come of age,” the boy announced, tone as regal as that of a six year old prince could get.

Queen Rhaella, who had trailed after her son, gracefully laughed behind him. “Viserys, I also explained that Lady Melelna will become your new sister because she will wed your brother. She can’t marry you and Rhaegar both.”

The boy didn’t seem too pleased by that piece of information, but nodded. “Oh,” was all he said before turning back to Melelna. “Come sit with us, mother’s sent for blueberry cakes. They should be here soon and I’ll wager you never ate anything as sweet in Volantis.”

“It is very kind of you to share your blueberry cakes with me, my prince.” She curtsied at him and then at the Queen. “Your Grace, you look especially beautiful this morn.” And she truly did. Her crimson gown had stripes of black velvet about the bodice and dark myrish lace fell gracefully over the puffed skirts.

Queen Rhaella gave her a warm smile. “So do you, my child. My son has the right of it I ought to admit. My personal cook bakes the sweetest blueberry cakes in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I have no doubt you will develop a taste for them.” She smiled at Ashara. “Lady Dayne, always a pleasure to see you dear.”

Ashara blushed and gave a deep curtsy.

“I see that my son has found a good septa for you,” the Queen continued, noting septa Clarysse. She then glanced at Elyse. “And who is this?”

“ _Elyse_.” Prince Lewyn blurted out before Melelna could so much as open her mouth, making every head jerk to his direction.

Elyse’s eyes turned into two especially large balls and an awkward short silence followed. Everybody seemed to be waiting for someone else to talk.

“You know the lady?” The Queen asked her Kingsguard, who stood stiff and shocked, glancing with wide eyes between Elyse and Melelna.

“I am no lady, your grace,” Elyse clarified. “Only lady Melelna’s faithful servant. I have met your Kingsguard when I first came to the city, at the docks. I must have not mentioned that I belong to lady Melelna’s household. I apologise for that, ser,” She said as to explain the startled expression on Prince Lewyn’s face. _She is lying_ , Melelna realized. _She is lying to the queen’s face._

“The docks, you say?” The Queen looked uncertain.

To Melelna’s utter astonishment, it was Prince Lewyn who spoke, taking Elyse’s lie even further. “Yes, your grace. Some drunken sailors were meddling in her business and I scared them off. Beg your pardon for my reaction, I was just surprised to see her here, is all.”

“That was gallant of you, ser,” Melelna said, even though she did not believe a single word of their poorly grafted story. If such a thing had occurred, Elyse would’ve told her of it. It wasn’t the time to investigate this, though. She’d have a word with her handmaiden when they were completely alone.

They all followed the Queen to the shaded bench and soon plates filled with tiny blueberry cakes were being placed on the table in front of her. The little prince was eager to tell Melelna of all the great adventures of his ancestors and their dragons, barely stopping to draw breath and holding her full attention for the entire meal. When it was time for Melelna to return to her solar, he stumped his little boots in protest, demanding to go with. That small tantrum was quickly put to an end by the Queen, who quickly picked him up and soothed him with sweet words and promises to see lady Melelna again soon.

Ashara retreated to her chambers and the septa would return later for her evening lessons but Melelna didn’t wish to spend the beautiful day inside dull walls. “Elyse, do you still remember how to ride?”

“Of course, my lady. Should I send for someone to ready your horse?”

“Yes, and those of ser Jaime and Amir. Ask Aren to choose a gentle animal for you as well.”

“As you say,” Elyse shut the door behind her, off to carry her lady’s command.

Ser Jaime looked uneasy. “Where are we going, my lady?”

“To the forest, the weather is perfect for a trot through the woods, don’t you think? And the day is still young.”

“As you wish. I shall call for some knights to escort us then,” Jaime said and made a move to turn.

Melelna’s hand quickly jerked out and closed around the pale plate on his wrist. The young knight tensed as if she’d burned him through his armour and she quickly released him. “Must we always take them with, ser? I’d rather have some quiet for once.”

Ser Jaime looked conflicted. “The prince is not going to like it,” he warned.

“I have you and Amir to protect me—we can take Belio and Aren too if you wish—no one would oppose the four of you.”

He considered that for a long moment before giving a reluctant nod. “I will see that Belio’s and Aren’s horses are also saddled then, my lady.”

She stared after him as he disappeared behind the door. The young knight was still mostly a mystery to her. At times, she was convinced that she was finally breaking through to him and from time to time she even dared to believe that Jaime enjoyed her company; but other times, like today, his eyes were cold like froze emerald ice. He didn’t seem to dislike her but she always felt that there were enormous invisible walls surrounding the young lion, blocking him from accepting any sort of friendship with her.

“Do you miss your home, Ser Jaime?” Melelna found herself asking when their horses ambled under the shade of the tall trees in the Kingswood.

Jaime looked a little surprised at her question. “The Rock? I do sometimes, I suppose,” he confessed. “Do you miss Volantis, my lady?”

 _No, not really_ , she wanted to say, but that would encourage him to ask questions she did not look forward to answering. “I miss Lys the most,” Melelna said instead. “My family spent most of my childhood living at our summer palace. We seldom left Volantis after my father was elected Triarch.”

“Perhaps the prince shall one day take a ship to Lys with you, so you may once again visit your childhood home,” Jaime said as they took a path through a small field of blossomed wildflowers.

“Perhaps,” Melelna allowed. “But there are so many places on this side of the Narrow Sea I’d rather see first. Dragonstone for starters. I’ve heard so much about the place, I don’t know what to believe.”

Jaime bestowed her a rare genuine smile. “My little brother is fascinated with Dragonstone as well. To be honest, Tyrion is fascinated with all things ‘Dragon’.”

“How old is your brother, ser?” Melelna grasped at the opportunity to have a real conversation with her sworn shield.

“Almost nine, my lady.”

Melelna hoped that she wasn’t overstepping but she had to at least give it a try. “I understand that in Westeros it is common for a noble house to foster the children of another, is that correct?”

Jaime gave her a curious look but nodded. “That is correct, aye.”

“Do you think your lady mother and lord father would entrust Rhaegar and I to foster your brother?” She wearily asked.

Jaime’s eyes snapped to hers, shadows evident in their emerald depths. “You would foster my brother? Why?”

Melelna shifted uncomfortably on her saddle. “Did I offend somehow? Beg your pardon, ser. I onl—”

“ _No_ ,” Jaime said over her, his expression apologetic. “You gave no offense, my lady. I’m only curious as to why you would wish to foster Tyrion.”

“Well, you said that little Tyrion likes ‘all things dragon’ and my sworn shield is his big brother. If I’m going to foster a child, might as well be one that is likely to enjoy his time in our company, no?”

They neared a small stream cutting through the colourful carpets of wildflowers and ser Jaime pulled rein beside it, sliding off his horse with a graceful jump.

Melelna followed his example and gestured to her four companions who were following behind to give them privacy for a little longer. She secured the reins of her horse on a low limb of a nearby tree and patiently waited for ser Jaime to speak.

The silence seem to stretch on forever and she began considering dropping the matter altogether but the Kingsguard finally turned and faced her. “Well, my mother is not likely to make any objections. She died giving birth to Tyrion, you see.”

As someone who had also lost their mother at a tender age, Melelna’s heart went out to Jaime. “I’m sorry to hear that, ser. It must’ve been hard for you losing her so suddenly.”

Ser Jaime nodded. “My lady…” he hesitated. “Have you not heard any gossip regarding my little brother during your stay in King’s Landing?”

Melelna regarded him curiously. “Gossip? No, I don’t believe that I have. But I never really had an ear for gossip, I confess. Why do ask, ser?”

“Well, you see…my brother is… different. I don’t know if my father would allow…what I mean to say is... ” he unclasped his halfhelm and pulled it off before running a frustrated hand through his golden hair.

Melelna was unsure of what his words meant. _Different?_ She’d seen some ‘different’ people in her time. It could mean a large number of things.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Does your brother have a difficulty learning? If so, then I’m certain we could find an appropriate tutor for him.”

Jaime didn’t flinch at her touch this time, instead he smiled sadly at her. “No, Tyrion has more wits about him than most people I know. It’s in height he lacks.”

She pulled her hand back and regarded him with confused eyes. “Height? I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, ser.”

“He is a dwarf, my lady,” He informed her wearily.

Melelna grimaced. Did he think that she would withdrew her offer to foster the child because he had the unfortunate fate of being born stunted? “I still don’t see why we can’t foster him,” she dryly told him.

“Lady Melelna, perhaps you should consult with the prince about this first. And then of course there is my lord father to consider, not that he is likely to offend His Grace by declining such an offer coming from Rhaegar’s own lips.” Jaime told her, and she immediately grasped the meaning between his lines. Rhaegar might object to fostering a stunned child and should her prince agree, Lord Tywin should hear of this from him.

“As you say.” She inclined her head in agreement. “I hope your father is going to do us the honour of coming to the capital for our wedding. I shall speak with Rhaegar about little Tyrion and if all goes well, Lord Tywin should hear of this then.”

They allowed their animals to drink from the stream while the two of them walked to join Amir, Belio, Aren and Elyse on a wide blanket they’d laid on the short grass beneath a shady tree.

“You have a tender heart lady Melelna. One day you shall make a good Queen,” she heard Jaime murmur from behind her before they were within earshot of her companions.

She glanced back at him and smiled before taking a seat on the thick fabric next to Elyse. The six of them shared the midday meal that the kitchen servants had packed for them back at the castle and spent most of the next hour trading stories and laughing at Belio’s bawdy jests. Ser Jaime was much more willing to indulge in conversation with her and for the first time Melelna had felt that she’d made some real progress with the young knight.

When Melelna returned to her chambers, later that day, she ordered Elyse to draw her a steaming bath and send someone to find where Vinar had disappeared to all day. Her intention was to question Elyse about the incident with Prince Lewyn and the Queen while she laid in her tub but she had to put that conversation off when Elyse returned with the scolding water, conveniently accompanied by lady Ashara. Melelna had no doubts that her handmaiden had somehow influenced Ashara’s visit to avoid the unwelcome questioning _. You will have to be alone with me eventually, sweet Elyse_. Melelna thought and pinned the woman an indignant stare to let her know that she saw right through her little scheme.

“Your brother is…indisposed, my lady,” Elyse timidly told her.

Melelna sighed. She wondered how many bastards might be sired by her brother before he finally agreed to wed. Not that she didn’t have her doubts about his ability to keep to one bed even then. “I see,” was all she said.

Her handmaiden readied her copper bathtub and helped comb her wet hair after Melelna climbed inside. Ashara carried a cushioned stool from the other side of the room and took a seat a few feet away from the tub, chattering excitedly about Melelna’s upcoming wedding’s preparations.

“Did you know that all the great houses are invited? And the Queen took great care so that your wedding gown is the most lavish and elegant of all the dresses any princess before you has worn,” the dornish woman announced, her shining purple eyes so lovely, one could easily get mesmerised if he stared in them long enough.

“I doubt all of them will attend. I heard Rhaegar tell Oswell that the Greyjoys seldom come anywhere near the capital and the Starks’ own wedding is hardly a moon’s turn after ours. I’m not even sure if we will have enough time to make it to Riverrun for the ceremony, considering we have to remain in King’s Landing for a few more days after we are wed to entertain guests,” Melelna sweetly told her.

At the mention of the Starks, Ashara’s cheeks flushed rosy red. “Am I to come with you for Brandon Stark’s wedding, my lady?” she reluctantly asked.

Melelna giggled. “Ashara, I know I promised not to push you on this but…I would like think that by now we’ve become close friends. That business in Harrenhal, was it one of the Starks? Not the one getting married to Lady Catelyn I hope?”

Ashara’s cheeks turned even redder. “N-no, my lady. Not Brandon.”

“Well the youngest one is not even a man grown yet, so that only leaves the second son.” Melelna paused, trying to bring the man’s name to memory.

“Eddard, his name is Eddard,” Ashara provided for her as if reading her mind.

Melelna was about to ask for more details about Ashara’s little encounter in the stables with this Eddard, but a knock on her door interrupted her train of thought. Elyse quickly helped her out of the tub and fetched a modest crimson bedrobe for her to don. Her hair fell moist and lose down her back but since the sun was almost set, she’d assumed it was either Rhaegar or her brother who had come to visit her so she didn’t care much for her appearance.

When the door opened however, the image that greeted her was neither that of her brother nor her lover. Elyse let out a startled gasp and took an involuntary step back at the sight of Prince Lewyn Martell, standing tall and handsome, clad in all pale armour and waiting for an invitation to come within.

“Prince Lewyn,” Melelna greeted, a little startled herself. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“May I come in, my lady? I wish to speak with you, if it is not too much trouble,” The Kingsguard asked, ever so chivalrous.

“It would be no trouble at all, ser.” She beckoned him to enter.

“I shall return later to sup with you, my lady,” Ashara politely offered and made for the door.

Elyse made a move to follow her. _Oh, you better think again, my dear._ “ _Elyse_ ,” Melelna sterny called, causing the woman to freeze in her tracks. “Stay.” She turned to Prince Lewyn. “Would you care for some wine, ser?”

“Wine would be most welcome, my lady. I suspect that I might have a thirst for it soon,” he said cryptically, throwing a small glance in Elyse’s direction.

“Elyse, fetch a flagon of dornish red and two goblets,” She told her handmaiden who was eager to oblige and no wonder escape the room. When Elyse was about to shut the door behind her, Melelna spoke again. “And Elyse, see that you _do_ return.” It wouldn’t have surprised her if the sly wench convinced some other servant to deliver the wine to them.

Melelna took a pillowed seat by the window and gestured for the Kingsguard to do the same.

“Are you enjoying your time in Westeros, my lady?” Prince Lewyn asked when he settled on the velvet cushion.

“Very much so, ser. But you didn’t come all the way here to ask how I like Westeros, did you?”

His lips twitched. “No, my lady. I most certainly did not. But If you would be so kind as to wait until your handmaid returns before we begin that conversation, I would be most grateful. There are things I need to…confirm first.”

Melelna’s eyes narrowed. “And you require Elyse in order to confirm? How do you really know my handmaid, Prince Lewyn?” she bluntly asked him, not bothering to pretend that she believe that sorry excuse of a story they blurted out in the gardens.

Prince Lewyn’s dark eyes turned nostalgic. “Oh, I have met Elyse a very long time ago. Decades have passed since then.”

“Then you both lied to the Queen this morn when you said that you met her at the docks?”

 “Only half a lie, my lady. I _did_ meet Elyse at the docks, just not those of King’s Landing. And it wasn’t just her I saved from the drunken sailors, but her mistress as well. It happened more than twenty years ago, to be sure, but you can certainly see how it was not a total deceit?”

Melelna’s eyes widened. _Her mistress? Does he mean my mother?_

Eysse chose that moment to return, making her way to them with small hesitant steps and never meeting Melelna’s gaze.

“Elyse,” Prince Lewyn called after the maid had put the flagon and goblets on the short table. “Have a seat with us.”

The handmaid reluctantly lowered herself on a cushioned armchair. “It is good to see you alive and well after all these years, milord         .” Her voice was a little more than a whisper.

Prince Lewyn poured for both of them and brought his own cup to his lips. “I wasn’t certain when I saw you at first, you know. The years have been kind to you, that much is plain, but you were little more than a girl the last time I saw you,” he said before lifting his chin towards Melelna. “ _That_ face however, especially standing next to you…there is no mistaking it. What is she to _her_?”

Elyse remained silent, eyes low.

“Is he talking about my mother? Elyse why won’t you answering him?” Melelna demanded. If the Dornish Prince knew her mother, then she wanted to hear of it.

“She is Lady Minesa’s daughter.” Her handmaiden clarified for him, looking extremely unhappy to do so.

“ _Lady Minesa’s_ ,” Prince Lewyn echoed, dragging out the words. “I was under the impression that her name was Mia.”

“It was. Until it was time for her to do her duty,” Elyse told him.

Melelna observed the interaction between the two of them with confused eyes.   _Mia?_ She’d never heard anyone call her mother by that name. “Did you know my lady mother, ser? When she was a girl?”

Elyse rose from her chair. “My lady, beg your pardon but I do not think this conversation is proper. Your lady mother would be greatly displeased.”

 _Your refusal to let me hear this only makes me want to know more._ But why was she so adamant? Elyse has never been one for being bold. Unless... Melelna looked at Prince Lewyn, truly _looked_ at him. The harsh jaw, the dark thick hair, the shape of his plum lips… “Ser, how long ago, _exactly_ , did you know my mother?” She blurted out.

Prince Lewyn considered the question for a heartbeat. “About twenty four years ago. Why?”

Elyse was shaking her head “no” but Melelna ignored her. “And did you…Were you my mother’s lover?”

He seemed taken aback by the bluntness of her question, a little amused too. “Why would you wish to know that, my lady?”

“Since you didn’t immediately deny it, I’m going to take that as a yes.” Melelna glanced at Elyse and found her pleading with her eyes. _He doesn’t know_ , she realized. _And Elyse doesn’t want me to tell him._

Well as it turned out, the prince knew enough to come to some conclusion in his head, judging from the abrupt widening of his eyes and the accusatory look she threw Elyse’s way. “Did she lie to me, Elyse?” When she made no effort to answer he suddenly stood and took a step towards her direction, making her flinch back. “ _Did.She.Lie?”_ he demanded, loudly and fiercely enough to make even Melelna shiver with fear.

Melelna quickly moved between them and pinned the Dornishman with a harsh look. “Mind your tone, ser. You are scaring her!”

“She only did what was best for her boy!” Elyse snapped, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Prince Lewyn fell back on his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. He looked so pained and distressed that Melelna didn’t dare demand an explanation for his tantrum just yet.

After a long uncomfortable moment, he glanced up at Elyse. “A boy?” his voice was soft now, all traces of his anger gone.

The handmaiden nodded and wiped at the wetness on her face with the back of her hand. “A man now.”

The chamber door busted open with a groan and Rhaegar, Arthur and Jaime rushed inside. As soon as the Targaryen Prince noticed that she was garbed in robes, he frowned. He then turned his angry indigo gaze to Prince Lewyn. “What is the meaning of this?” Rhaegar demanded sounding every bit like the Crown Prince he was.

The Martell rose at once, looking remorseful. “Your grace, beg your pardon but this is personal.”

“Personal? We are beyond fucking personal. The whole bloody keep heard your screaming.” Rhaegar voice had gone alarmingly hostile and Melelna’s throat tightened with guilt for causing this in the first place. She still hadn’t fully understood why Prince Lewyn was so upset but she regretted not heeding Elyse’s warnings.

“Please,” Elyse reluctantly said in a quivering voice. “T-this is a delicate matter, y-your grace.” She glanced around uneasily. “N-not fit for prying ears, for my lady’s sake.”

Rhaegar was ominously silent for a couple of thundering heartbeats. “ _Everybody out._ ” he commanded. “All of you make your way to my solar. Lady Melelna and I will both join you when she wears _clothes_.”

Melelna flinched at his tone but didn’t dare object. She’d never before witnessed him this angry. She didn’t dare speak or move either.

“If there is a logical explanation for you receiving one of the Kingsguard in your chamber dressed in only your bedrobe, now would be a really good time to enlighten me with it.” Rhaegar growled when they were alone.

Her heart clenched at the accusatory coldness of his voice but she swallowed her hurt. “I was still in the bath when Prince Lewyn knocked, I donned the robe thinking it was you or Vinar. Rhaegar, you surely don’t think…”

A brief look of regret reflected in his eyes before they hardened again. “Why did he shout at you? I was on my way to invite you for supper and I heard his roar all the way up the street. Ser Jaime should’ve dragged him out as soon as he’d raised his voice, perhaps I trusted too much in him.”

Melelna shook her head. “He didn’t shout at me,” she hesitated. “He was wroth with Elyse.”

“Your handmaid? Why would Prince Lewyn shout at your handmaid?” Rhaegar’s anger appeared have been replaced by genuine surprise.

 _Too late to hold back now_ , Melelna told herself. “Rhaegar, my love,” she began in a pleading tone. She saw his eyes soften at the endearment and it gave her a small confidence to tell him the truth. “You asked me about Amir once, do you recall?”

“Amir? Yes I remember, what does your guard have to do with this?”

She gave him a regretful smile. “Everything I told you that day was true, but for one small detail. But I had good reason, if you would allow me to explain.”

Rhaegar took the seat Prince Lewyn had occupied earlier. “By all means,” he said and put his arms on the armrests, giving her his undivided attention.

She couldn’t decide if he was truly curious, or mocking her or trying to sooth his anger by allowing her to speak first. She crouched by his chair and whispered quietly, afraid that someone might hear, even though they were alone in the chamber. “Elyse is not Amir’s mother, my own mother, Lady Minesa Vhassar is. He is my half-brother.”

The prince only stared at her, nonplussed. “Your mother had a bastard? This is the first I hear of this.”

“It is a long story, one I do not dare speak here where the wrong ears could be listening in. But I will tell you this,” she shifted closer to him and lowered her voice. “My mother was never unfaithful to my father. She never shamed him, not once. Amir was born before her marriage and her only crime was that she wished to have her son close. Prince Lewyn…” she swallowed. “I suspect that he might be Amir’s father. I never knew until just before you came. He recognized Elyse today and at first I thought he was just someone who knew the maid and my mother when they were girls so I pressed him for information, but Elyse became really upset and then he was demanding that she tells him the truth about something…I don’t know Rhaegar, but it was my fault. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have pushed him, I only…I wanted to know—for Amir.”

Rhaegar remained silent for a very long moment. She could almost see his brain working the information through the reflection of his deep lilac eyes. “I-I…I truly don’t know what to say to that, my lady. It does explain a lot about your relationship with Amir, I suppose.” He made a move to stand. “However, Prince Lewyn is a knight of the Kingsguard. I must speak with him about this. Dress Melelna, we need to go to my solar.”

Melelna shrugged out of the bedrobe, hastily picked a simple gown from her wardrobe and threw it over her head. She tamed her almost dry hair with a gilded comb and fastened a cloth-of-silver cloak about her shoulders.

On her way to Maegor’s Holdfast, she thanked the gods that Amir was with Vinar and didn’t witness the confrontation. It would have been a horrid way to find out who had sired him—and coming to swords with him over the way he had talked to Elyse would make it an even worse one.

Three knights garbed in white armour awaited inside Rhaegar’s solar, along with her blanch-faced handmaid. Melelna had a sudden urge to comfort Elyse and apologize for getting her tangled in this mess but she knew that it wasn’t the time.

“Your Grace.” Prince Lewyn stood taut and proud as he addressed Rhaegar. “I overstepped, I admit. My shock and anger took control over my wits, and I beg your pardon for any discomfort I might have caused to lady Melelna.”

Rhaegar was still glaring at him. “It’s her you should apologize to, not me. But first, tell me what it was that angered you so.”

The Martell nervously looked at Melelna, then the handmaid. “A little more than two decades ago, I visited Lys with my uncle. I was barely a boy of six and ten then, and stayed in the city for about three turns. A few days after we arrived, I came upon two women at the docks, a young lysene lady and her maid.” He pinned his gaze on Elyse. “I assisted them with some trouble they were having and soon I was spending most of my evenings visiting one place or another on the Island with them. I…” Prince Lewyn paused and uncomfortably cleared his throat. “I grew very fond of the lady but I had to of course return to Dorne with my uncle and… a few days before I was to leave, she told me that she was with child. I offered to take her with me to Dorne as my paramour but she knew that her family wouldn’t have it. She was very beautiful you see, so much so that even though her birth name didn’t mean much in Lys, foreign lords and rich merchants from the free cities had already been asking for her hand. Her family would never forgive her if she committed such an act when they saw how much prospect they had for a match above their station.

“So then I offered to return for the child. I knew that a bastard would have no place in any palace she might end up at when her father found her a match, but in Sunspear he could grow amidst family. The next day, she came to me and confessed to drinking a Lysene potion, much alike moon tea. I wasn’t too pleased with her but accepted her choice not to threaten any potential alliances her family could access through a good marriage by birthing a bastard. As it turns out _, she lied_.”

“And what is the name of this lady, Prince Lewyn?” Rhaegar asked even though he knew the answer to that question.

“Then, it was Mia. Now…” the prince of Dorne glanced at Melelna, looking a little ashamed.

“Minesa,” Melelna provided for him. “Her name is Minesa, or was.”

“Lady Vhassar, I know how uncomfortable this must be for you. You surely wonder why I didn’t offer marriage to her and—”

“Prince Lewyn,” she spoke over him. “My mother seldom spoke of you, and never addressed you by name, to be sure. But those scarce times that she did mention you was only to tell her son that he shall one day grow strong and fierce like his father. She never displayed any ill feelings toward you, and if she did not judge your choices, then nor shall I.”

The Martell tensed when the word “son” left her mouth. “Her son… _where_ is this son?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this story, consider leaving kudos or/and a comment. It would put a smile on this one's face.


	11. Chapter X | Choices

_❝He’s me,_ Jaime realized suddenly _. I am speaking to myself, as I was, all cocksure arrogance and empty chivalry. This is what it does to you, to be too good too young.❞_

_Jaime Lannister, A storm of swords, c67_

****

**_Jaime_ **

Jaime glanced down at his newly drawn page in the white book. Every knight who had served in the Kingsguard had his deeds, good and bad, recorded within the enormous tome. The Lord Commander had begun his own entry last week, after a septon had come from the Great Sept of Baelor to draw the heraldic shields and illuminations.

_Ser Jaime of House Lannister. Firstborn son of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna of Casterly Rock. Served against the Kingswood Brotherhood as squire to Lord Sumner Crakehall. Knighted in his 17th year by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, for valor in the field. Chosen for the Kingsguard in his 17th year by King Aerys II Targaryen._

At the top-left side of the page was drawn the proud golden lion that was the sigil of his house, at the bottom right the pure white shield of the Kingsguard.

 _Oh, but you forgot my latest achievement ser Gerold,_ Jaime mused. _Attempted to murder the betrothed of the Crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, on the day he received his white cloak. The deed was done at his sweet sister’s request, so said Prince can have her in his bed while ser Jaime dutifully guards their door like a good little knight._ The thought angered him and shamed him all at the same time.

His sister had arrived in the capital along with his father to attend the royal nuptials and were both accommodated within the Red Keep. Jaime was among the party which welcomed them to the city but Cersei had barely glanced at him when she’d stepped off her carriage and the smile she’d given him in the yard before she’d retreated to her chambers was forced. _She’ll have to talk to me eventually. She loves me. When I explain to her, she’ll understand._

Jaime read the words the White Bull had written about him again. _He’ll fill that page for me, I vow it,_ He promised himself. _By_ _the end of the week he’ll have to write in it again, to record my victory in the tilts._ There was to be a small tourney for the Prince’s wedding. But small in King’s Landing was always an understatement.  Jaime didn’t only intent to participate this time but he’d also see that he wins. The jousting would spread over three days; the two days before the wedding and the morning after. Perhaps crowning Cersei his Queen of Love and Beauty would sooth her anger and get her to warm toward him.

The Royal wedding was only days away and the numerous guests had started to make their appearance in the castle. A sea of tents and pavilions was being raised by the river near the tourney grounds outside the Kingsgate. There was to be an archery competition and horse raising as well but Jaime only really cared for the champion’s purse. _And that flowery crown_.  He’d need that crown if he was to appeal to Cersei.

He put the book aside and started making his way down the winding steps and out of the white sword tower. It was almost dawn and with the sun came the start of his shift guarding his soon-to-be Princess.

Lady Melelna was shaken for a few days after the incident with Prince Lewyn but she seemed to be over whatever had happened now. Jaime himself wasn’t certain exactly what really occurred that night but Prince Rhaegar had commanded him not to ever speak of it and he obeyed.

Before going to the Maidenvault however, he made a stop at the apartments by the east wall where his father and sister were housed. His father had requested his presence first thing in the morning and Lord Tywin was not known for his patience.

“Father,” greeted Jaime when he was admitted inside his father’s solar by the Lannister household guard. The chamber was dim and his father’s features were half hidden by the shadows of the room but the low light was enough for Jaime to see the distasteful look in Lord Tywin’s emerald eyes when he ran his gaze over the pale armour and snowy white cloak. “You wished to talk to me?”

“Prince Rhaegar came to see me yesterday,” his father informed him, his unflinching eyes searching his face. “Is this folly your doing?”

Jaime didn’t budge under his stare. “What folly? What did the prince want of you?”

Lord Tywin looked annoyed. “Tyrion. Why would Rhaegar want to foster your brother?”

 _Because his bride has a good heart and wanted to please me_. “Perhaps he thought it would please you after the way you departed King’s Landing,” Jaime offered instead.

“Tyrion is not meant to be paraded for all the realm to see.”

“I doubt anyone means to parade Tyrion for all the realm to see, father.” He glanced at the rising sun outside the window. “Is this all? I need to return to my duties.”

Lord Tywin remained silent for a long moment. “Your duty is to your family,” he said sternly.

“My duty is to the King, and His Grace has commanded me to protect the Crown Prince’s betrothed, which requires me to be at her door when the sun comes up.” Jaime did his best not to show his annoyance in his voice. “It was good to see you, father.” He bobbed his head and turned to leave.

The Lord of Casterly rock didn’t grace him with a reply, nor did he make any move to stop him; but that was to be expected of his father.

On his way down the narrow steps of the building he felt a tug on his cloak, pulling him to the left. Jaime’s first instinct was to reach for his sword hilt but when he turned his head, he glimpsed a gleam of emerald hidden under a loose hood.

Cersei was wearing a roughspun dark hooded cloak which concealed her beautiful golden locks. He wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her to show her how much he’d missed touching her but the way those cat-green eyes were assessing him didn’t appear welcoming.

She retreated inside the small storage room she’d hidden in, Jaime following her.

“You betrayed me,” said Cersei after Jaime had closed the door behind him.

A single candle on a shelf lid the narrow room but even in the low light Jaime could see how beautiful his sister was. He’d only wished she wasn’t scowling at him. “Cersei, this is not the time. Actually, I think it best if we never speak of Harrenhal again. Especially in this castle, for both our sakes.” He softened his voice and pushed down Cersei’s hood. “I’ve missed you, sister. Let our first real conversation not be a fight.”

Jaime lowered his head and kissed her gently. For a second, she looked as if she would reject him but she twined her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. He could feel himself responding to her touch; it’s been so long since the last time he had his hands on her soft pale skin. He pushed her back against the wall and started to fumble with her dress to hike it up around her hips.

“ _No_ ,” his sister said and grasped his wrists but Jaime was way too far gone to hear her objections. His hands jerked free of her feeble hold and found their way to her bodice, undoing the front laces while his mouth came back down to claim her own again.

She bit him. Hard enough to draw blood and snap Jaime out of his sexual haze. “I said, no,” she snapped.

Jaime recoiled and brought a hand up to touch his lip, wincing at the sting. “Any man with half a brain is going to know that I did not get that from sparring.”

“Then you should’ve listened when I told you ‘no’,” Cersei informed him with icy coldness. She fixed her bodice and smoothed down her skirts. “Rhaegar came to see father last night.”

 _Rhaegar_. Part of Jaime admired and respected the Crown Prince; he was everything a King should be and more. A darker part of him wanted to drive his golden sword through the Targaryen’s bowels and get it over with. He recalled the nights he stood guard outside lady Vhassar’s chamber when Rhaegar came to visit. A king had no secrets from his Kingsguard and in this case the Prince was no different _. I might have busted in and killed him if it was Cersei’s moans and whimpers I could hear through the door, instead of those of Melelna’s._ “I’m aware, what of it?” He asked.  

Cersei studied him. “This was _her_ doing, wasn’t it? Rhaegar would never bother with the likes of Tyrion. Even if he meant to soften father, he would never willingly foster that vile creature.”

Jaime could sense his temper rising. “That vile creature, as you like to call him, is a boy of nine and our own blood. The Heir to the Throne wants to take our brother under his wing regardless of his circumstances, and instead of seeing it for the honour that it is, you and father keep on looking for reasons to sour the gesture.”

“So it is her! Jaime, can’t you see what she’s doing? This is only a feeble attempt to beguile you.” She took hold of his hand. “You think she cares one bit about Tyrion? Or you? She _doesn’t_. She is only doing this to get in your good graces and drive a wedge betw–.”

“Gods be good, Cersei!” He broke in and wrenched free of her touch. “You think I don’t know that? She’s been trying to get in my good graces since the day I was assigned as her sworn shield! And most days I can’t even look the poor girl in the eye thanks to my folly in Harrenhal!” Jaime softened his voice. “What does it matter _why_ she wants to foster Tyrion? Melelna is sweet and kind, I never saw her mistreat a single soul. She’s going to be good to our brother and she has this book full of dragon drawings that…” He stopped talking when he saw the emerald storm gathering in his sister’s beautiful eyes.

“ _Sweet and kind_?” Cersei asked, dryly. “The whore has you perfectly enchanted and under her spell already, doesn’t she?”

Jaime’s jaw clenched but he ignored the remark. Cersei was seldom reasonable when roused. “The only one who has me under their spell is you. Why can’t you just let it go, Cersei? We haven’t seen each other for months. I don’t want to talk about Melelna, or Rhaegar, or even Tyrion. I’ve missed _you_.”

He tried to kiss her again but Cersei pushed him back so hard, he almost lost his footing. “You are a fool,” she stated. “Father is going to offer me to some lordling like a broodmare while that Volantene simpering wretch becomes Queen!”

Jaime couldn’t bite back his tongue this time. “Could you stop with the insults?” he growled. “Is getting Rhaegar’s cock inside your cunt the only thing on your mind these days?”

Cersei slapped him. “It was a mistake to get you that white cloak,” she said. “It changed you. It _ruined_ you.” She swept past him and closed her fingers around the door handle. “You were meant to be _my_ white knight. _My_ shield. But you are nothing to me now. Go, run back to your mistress like the good little pup that you are, or don’t. It makes little difference to me anymore.” And then she was gone, leaving him with a bleeding lip and a stinging cheek to lick his wounds alone in the gloominess of the small room. _She doesn’t mean those words,_ He told himself. _She’s only angry_.

A Tyroshi clad in colourful mail over flowing silks with a forked purple beard was guarding the entrance to the Maidenvault, along with a Targaryen household guard. Jaime thought the man looked ridiculous in all those bright colours and dyed hair. Lady Melelna’s brother, was prudent enough not to bring slaveguards with him across the narrow sea but was accompanied a pack of his father’s sellswords. Jaime wasn’t certain if he would prefer the slaveguards instead, seeing how he bloody distrusted sellswords; regardless of Volantene’s assurances that the men have been in his father’s employment long enough to have their loyalties tested on multiple occasions.

As he climbed the swirling steps to the second floor, he came upon Amir and Vinar; both appropriately armoured for a morning beating in the yard. The Volantenes were unfamiliar with longswords but wished to learn, so every morning ser Williem Darry would train with them in the Red Keep’s inner yard. Ser Arthur joined them when duty allowed and as of late, so did Prince Lewyn.

Rhaegar may have commanded Jaime to never speak of what he heard that night in the prince’s solar and after Prince Lewyn’s admition to siring a child on Melelna’s mother, everyone was ordered out, save for the royal couple and the Martell but even so...Jaime could fill in the blanks. The dornishman’s sudden interest in the progress Melelna’s guard was making was obvious but Amir himself appeared to still be clueless about the situation.   

Judging from the servants exiting lady Melelna’s chamber, she was already up and preparing for the day. Jaime knocked to announce his arrival and received a feint reply, admiting him to enter.

She was submerged in a copper tub filled with steaming water by the open window, only her head, shoulders and arms visible as she lay with her eyes half-closed. The soapy water concealed her nakedness but Jaime still shifted uncomfortably when he saw her.

As he neared the tub, the smell of orchids filled his nostrils, coming from the lysene oils Melelna liked to add in her bathwater. His eyes went to a droplet of sweat trailing her jaw line until it fell on the skin bellow and ran along her delicate collarbone. When he started to feel a slight pressure in his groin, he hastily averted his gaze and positioned himself facing the window.

 “Will you be leaving the Red Keep this morn, my lady?” Jaime asked in a surprisingly steady voice. Melelna rode to the tourney grounds on her dornish steed almost every day since the place started to crowd with lords and knights.

“Oberyn arrives today,” she reminded him, and even though Jaime could not see her, he heard the smile in her voice. “Rhaegar and I are going to welcome him to the city. I’m not certain about when he’ll be arriving though so I’ll be joining Ashara and the other ladies in the royal gardens until we get word. Sometime before midday, I believe.”

Jaime almost groaned. With so many noble’s coming to the city for the festivities, the place was crawling with ladies yapping at Melelna constantly, no wonder hoping for a place by her side as ladies-in-waiting. Their shallow flatteries and false smiles made him want to gag and he knew Melelna could see it too, regardless of her polite tolerance of it all. Ashara was the only woman of high birth currently attending the Lady Vhassar and Jaime had almost proposed that Cersei joins her so he could see his sister more often, but he thankfully saw the folly in his plan before he could give it voice. _She would probably skin me alive and leave me out to dry if I dared to suggest it._

Almost an hour later, he found himself amidst bloomed rose bushes and feminine laughter, standing dutifully by Melelna’s bench as she complimented one of lord Hightower’s daughters on her gown. Where highborn ladies gather, knights and lords are bound to soon follow, to Jaime’s further annoyance. There was no shortage of young knights and sons of that lord or the other coming to pay their compliments to the young bride or court one of the other ladies in her company. Two days ago at the tourney grounds, a drunken knight from the Vale was even bold enough to flirt with Melelna and go so far as to touch her hair. When Jaime informed him that the next time he extends that hand he will lose it, the fool laughed. The smile died on his lips when he saw the concerned look on lady Melelna’s face and realized that the Kingsguard was being serious.

A flash of gold caught his attention and when he turned his head, Jaime was startled to see Cersei walking towards them. She wore an elegant gown of black silk and golden lace, her face sweet and pleasant as if she was being reunited with an old friend when she greeted lady Melelna. Jaime knew better. _Father probably commanded her to come here and befriend the next in line to be Queen._ He was both terrified and amused at the thought, still on the edge about their earlier encounter.

His sister did her best to utterly ignore him while making sure that she also provocatively taunted him by subtly flirting with one man or another as close to Jaime as she could possibly get them. It was obvious to him that Cersei was fishing for a reaction, for him to run back to her after all this is over to apologise and make up, but her attempts only served to worsen his mood.

Ser Balman Byrch asked for Cersei’s favour and Jaime fought the urge to roll his eyes. Then, his sword hand twitched when his sister gracefully blushed and gave the man a golden knot of ribbons before shyly kissing his cheek. _Two can play this game, sweet sister,_ he thought bitterly.

Jaime was relieved to see Rhaegar approaching, regardless of the dreamy shine in Cersei’s eyes when she spotted him.

Rhaegar put a hand on Melelna’s shoulder who hadn’t noticed him behind her. “My love.” He smiled at her when she turned. “You should return to your solar and change into riding clothes, the Martells will be here within two hours.”

Melelna beamed at him and nodded before turning back towards the ladies to politely excuse herself. Jaime wondered why Rhaegar didn’t send a steward or a page to deliver the message but when the Prince lingered and walked back to the Maidenvault with the two of them, he understood the reason.

It was queer at first, standing guard beside the door, to the sound of the Prince of Dragonstone taking his pleasure, but he was used to it now. The hardest part was remaining unaffected by Melelna’s husky words and fervent moans _. Damn you Cersei,_ he inwardly cursed. He knew this was only the aftermath of the unnourished need she woke in him this morning. Melelna was beautiful and any man with blood in his veins could not hope to be indifferent to her but Jaime had never lusted after the lady in such a way until today.  

It was almost midday before Rhaegar and his bride emerged from her room. Melelna had changed into pale brown riding breeches and knee-high leather boots. She blushed at Jaime like she did every time she left her room after the prince has “visited” and the Kingsguard’s lips twitched in amusement.

Jaime followed the royal couple out the Maidenvault and across the outer yard to the castle’s gate where ser Arthur and Prince Lewyn waited with horses for the three of them. About a dozen nobles were also mounted and ready to ride to the docks to receive the Dornish. Jaime noted Lord Owen Merryweather, who had replaced his father as Hand of the King; Lord Jon Connington on a tall destier with a mane of the same fiery red as its master’s hair; young Lord Robert Baratheon and the northerner Eddard Stark who had both come down from the Eyrie with old Lord Jon Arryn; and the red wizard Thoros of Myr, dressed in his flowing red robes.

Jaime gave the priest a long glance. The Lannister didn’t fail to note the queer interest the man had taken in Melelna lately. Thoros had come to court a few years back, to turn fire-obsessed King Aerys towards his red God but that was a fool’s mission. Perhaps he thought the Volantene lady an easier target, or there could be more to it. _Better keep an eye on that one,_ He thought before they started their descent down Aegon’s high hill.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is shorter than usual and only from Jaime's POV but I felt it was necessary for Jaime's character development and to also serve as a bridge for the royal wedding. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and as always, I would love to hear your thoughts


	12. Chapter XI | Fangs and Petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content. If you wish not to read it, stop at the paragraph which starts with BOLD text.

**_Melelna_ **

There was only darkness around her. And a disquieting silence that made the hair on her nape bristle. _Where am I? What is this place?_

Melelna blinked and rubbed her eyes. It was no help. Closed or opened, her eyes did not seem to work. She cautiously extended her arms to feel the space around her but found nothing in her close proximity. She took a hesitant step forward and then another, still searching with her hands.

The area surrounding her seemed empty and the floor felt dirty and wet under her bare soles but she kept on moving. _There must be a way out of here, else how did I come in?_

She’d tried calling for Rhaegar, then for her brothers but received no answer, save for her own words echoing back to her.  Panic began to tighten her throat, making it difficult to breathe. _No, no, no. I was in the Red Keep, safe in my room._ Then it dawned on her. _This isn’t real, only a dream._

But this was unlike any dream she had before. Even in the queerest of them, Melelna was always surrounded by a sense of safety and tranquillity, not this menacing void. 

A feint scraping sound caught her attention, causing her to still. The sound came again, closer this time.  She took a step back but for all she knew she might be moving towards the source of that awful noise instead of away from it. _Nothing can truly harm me here, soon I’ll wake safe and sound in my bed_ , She told herself with confidence she did not feel. 

All her false courage dissolved into mist when she heard the low growl. She took off running, not knowing where her instincts were leading her, only that she had to get away from the thing stalking her in the darkness.

 She ran as fast as her legs could go but she could hear it gaining on her. Something sharp cut through the flesh of her leg making her stumble and fall hard on the hard ground. She reached out with her arms in a desperate attempt to crawl, barely making it two feet before it struck again. It cut through her other thigh, then her shoulder before she finally felt its hot breath on her face. Two glowing emerald orbs gazed down on her acutely, surrounded by endless blackness. Melelna shut her eyes in resignation and waited for the next attack, her heart beating so rabidly inside her chest that she thought it might explode before the faceless monster had a chance to kill her.

A sudden wave of blazing heat overwhelmed her and the world flashed bright behind her shut lids. As fast as the warmth had come though, it was gone; taking the feel of the clothes on her skin with it.

A moment passed, then another and another, but nothing happened. She hesitantly opened her eyes and was startled to see that it was no longer dark, but gasped when she detected the source of the reddish low light.

Right next to her trembling body lay the remains of what must’ve been a very large animal. The outline of its shape was still marked on the dirt in an ashen outline and the few remnants of its flesh were ablaze, emitting low crimson flames. It could have been a tiger, or a lion or something else entirely but there was no way to tell now.

Melelna lifted her gaze, beyond the burning carcass. She was so relieved at the image that greeted her, a shaky sob escaped her lips. He was sitting across from her with his leathery crimson wings folded. Black smoke was still leaking from his nostrils. His golden other-worldly eyes blinked at Melena expectantly, as if he was trying to communicate something to her. 

 _“Melelna.”_ it was only a faint whisper but it almost made her jump. At first she thought it came from the dragon but she knew that couldn’t be.

“ _Melelna_ ,” Sounded the voice again, this time louder and somehow familiar.

The beast rose and gaped at her, baring his sharp onyx teeth. The first glow of flame appeared behind his flattened tongue but for reasons she could not comprehend, Melelna did not flinch away from what she could sense was to come next. Her pulse quickened once more but it was anticipation that had her heart pounding this time, not gut-wrenching fear. 

Her vision was filled with oranges and reds and her mind with a profound sense of belonging. She thought her name might have been called again but it was difficult to focus on anything other than the fervent whispers of the flames. She savoured the feeling for the short time it lasted wishing it would never end.

It was dark and cold suddenly, someone was squeezing her hand and shouting her name in a concerned tone. She opened her eyes and found her Kingsguard looking down on her. He let out a deep breath of what appeared to be relief when their gazes locked.

“Jaime?” She blinked at him in confusion, then glanced at the hand he was still tightly clutching.

The knight followed her gaze and for a second she could swear she saw him redden but it was the black of night with only a candle on her bedside lightening the room so she couldn’t be certain. He hastily removed the knee he had on her bed and climbed off it, releasing his hold on her fingers.  

“You must’ve been having a nightmare, my lady,” Jaime nervously explained.

It took her a moment to completely return from the dreamworld, it always did during such awakenings. But Jaime had it right, this one was more nightmare than dream. “I…it seems so. I’m sorry, Jaime. Did I frightened you?” She was wearing a sleeping shift but it was made of sheer silk so she pulled the sheets up to her cover herself.

Jaime frowned at her choice of words but nodded. “I-I feared for you. You were screaming, then you stopped but you wouldn’t wake no matter how loud I called out to you or shook you. I was about to send for Grand Maester Pycelle when you opened your eyes.” She could see the question about the nightmare on his face but he did not ask it. “Should I still summon the maester? Or the Prince perhaps?”

Melelna shook her head. “No, that shan’t be necessary. I want…” she recalled the heat surrounding her body and consuming her senses. “…a bath drawn—the water as scorching as they can boil it.  Would you wake Elyse and tell her that?” It wouldn’t be the same, but it would have to suffice.

Her desire for a hot bath in the middle of the night appeared to perplex him but her sworn shield seldom questioned her requests, so long as he didn’t judge them a danger to her safety. “As you wish, my lady.”

She remained in her tub until the water turned uncomfortably cold, replaying the dream over and over again in her head the whole time. _What was that thing? And that look in his eyes after he turned it into ash…_ The dragon wanted something of her, she was certain of it. _But what?_

Amir took Jaime’s place outside her door a couple of hours before sunrise so the Kingsguard can get some sleep before his jousting match. Jaime had already defeated Thoros of Myr the day before and he was to face ser Oswell Whent in the morning. Most knights of the Kingsguard enrolled themselves in the lists, which turned the competition especially tough since they were all gifted with exceptional talent with lance and horse.

When Amir noticed that she was up, he joined her and sat with her on the balcony, gazing at the Blackwater Bay far beyond the castle’s walls. The moon was full tonight and its silver reflection was slashing at the black sea bellow.

She glanced at Amir. It was hard to keep secrets from her half-brother, but this time she knew that she had to. Prince Lewyn asked for time to come to terms with the news and also to tell Amir himself when the time was ripe. Melelna took note of how the dornish always found ways to join Amir’s morning training when it was possible, sometimes even taking ser Darry’s role. Her brother didn’t think much of it since other Kingsguard also joined with him if they happened to be looking for a partner in the morning. Amir even seemed to enjoy Lewyn’s company so Melelna couldn’t comprehend why the Prince still delayed. At first she thought it was because of the Kingsguard vows so she asked Rhaegar if Prince Lewyn would be in trouble, should the news of his son become known. Her Prince assured her that even though it would not be a wise idea to make it common knowledge, if it came down to any accusation, it could be easily dismissed. “Amir was conceived long before Lewyn took his vows, and according to your handmaid’s testimony, he was not aware of the existence of any child when he said the words. But it could still harm his reputation as a knight of the Kingsguard, sweetling,” he had told her.

It was two days ago that she understood the real reason Prince Lewyn remained silent. Amir was washing _Midnight_ in the stables while Melelna looked on, trying to draw her beautiful dornish steed. Her brother had taken off his tunic so it wouldn’t be stained with dirty water. When the dornish had chanced upon them that morning, his gaze immediately fixed on the crooked skin on Amir’s back. Angry red gouges and faded white scars, so numerous one would wonder how he survived so many injuries.

Guilt was what she glimpsed in the onyx depths of Prince Lewyn’s eyes when he slowly ran his gaze over the remnants of Nyessos’s preferred punishment. Melelna wagered that he would ask how Amir came to get so many scars but he never did. _Perhaps he is not even certain if he wants to know_ , She mused. _I wouldn’t be, were I him._

Melelna watched the sun climb up the eastern horizon, turning the sky above and the water bellow into a thousand shapes of pinks and oranges and purples. She retreated back inside her chamber to grab her sketching book before the memories last night’s dream turned into blur. A knock interrupted her work as she was filling the glowing cat eyes that had gazed down on her full of malice and reproach.

“Ser Jaime?” She was surprised to see him return. He had the morning off to prepare for his joust. “I thought I would be seeing you at the grounds.” When he approached her, Melelna suddenly realized how angry he looked. Or was it pained? She’d never seen such fervent emotion written so plainly on the young knight’s face. “Is something amiss?” she asked warily.

“Forgive me, my lady. I had a bad morning.” That was all Jaime was willing to yield on the matter, then he hesitated for a few heartbeats. “I-I was wondering, who did you give your favour to?”

Melelna laughed. “I have no favour, ser,” she informed him, still chuckling. “I never even knew what a favour was until I came to Westeros. Some did ask for it though, and were saddened to hear that I do not have one to give. I suspect they believed my words to mean that I had already given it to someone else but I didn’t see a reason to correct them.” She knew that they were asking for it only because Rhaegar was not competing this time or else they would have surely assumed that the Prince already had it.

Jaime’s mood appeared to have lightened judging from his half-smile. “It could be anything—a handkerchief,” He pointed at her hair. “Or one of the ribbons you use in your hair. Just don’t give a favour to two different men, it would be impolite.”

“Oh,” Melelna said and started breaking one of her braids to free the black ribbon she had intertwined with it.

 She gazed at the line of delicate silk in her hand. “Since Rhaegar did not enter the lists, I believe that you would be the most appropriate knight to carry my favour, as my own sworn shield.” She offered her ribbon to Jaime. “Here you go, ser. I hope it brings you luck.”

Jaime tied it around his right wrist before bowing deeply. “I’m certain that it shall. Thank you, my lady.”

**_Jaime_ **

The favour did bring him luck; or it might have been the precision with which he moved his gilded lance to push ser Oswell into the dirt. Either way, Jaime couldn’t wait for the wedding to be over with on the morrow so they can procced with the final matches. _It’s going to be ser Arthur, or ser Barristan,_ he reckoned. Jaime knew he ought to feel at least some concern about facing either of the two seasoned knights in the lists but there was none, only overwhelming anticipation.

It was almost midday when he returned to the Maidevault, and found a group of highborn ladies in Melelna’s solar. He recognized some of the faces in front of him but most were strangers. There was one Jaime remembered well enough though. Lady Kathlyn Allyrion; youngest daughter to the Lady of Godsgrace, Delonne Allyrion. She often shared Ashara’s company since the Dornish arrived in the city. At the end of yesterday’s jousts, he’d spent some time with lady Kathlyn when he noticed the shy half glances she was throwing his way. Jaime only meant to humour the dornish woman but the whole situation escalated beyond his original intentions.

The Lannister had offered to escort the lady to her pavilion. There was something about the way she’d gazed up at him with her bold brown eyes when she took his offered arm. “A shame the Kingsguard takes vows of chastity,” she’d said with a wicked smile.

 _She wanted me to go inside that tent with her_. And it seems that she still does, judging from the invitation he saw in her eyes when she spotted him enter the solar _. I took vows,_ he sternly reminded himself. Jaime hadn’t expected her to so openly provoke him, but what truly surprised him was how his own body responded when her willingness to bed him was plain.  He almost felt relief when the women started making their retreat to their own rooms, likely to prepare for the evening activities at the tourney grounds.

Melelna beckoned him to wait without so she can change into a different gown. A few minutes later she emerged from her the room dressed in a pale blue dress that the Prince had gifted to her. “We are going to see what my brother is up to, then we can ride down to the grounds,” she informed him.

Vinar was still asleep, according to the guard posted at his door, and when Melelna asked to enter anyway, the man blanched.

“M-my lady…” the guard shifted uncomfortably and lady Melelna rolled her eyes.

“Oh please,” she huffed. “I’ve lived under the same roof as him my whole life. Do you think he was any different in Volantis? How many are sleeping in his bed? Two?” She quirked a brow at him. “More?”

Jaime chuckled next to her but the guard’s eyes widened before he bowed his head and reluctantly pushed the door open.

There were indeed two women peacefully sleeping with Vinar, the lot of them tangled in a three-way embrace on the enormous four poster-bed. The girls were half-covered by the sheets and turned on their bellies but their naked backsides were on full view, one pale as milk, the other covered by a golden tan.

Melelna walked up to the bed and awkwardly shook Vinar’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

Her brother let out what sounded like a protesting whine and turned the other way but both women noticed lady Melelna and hastily climbed off the bed to gather their shifts from the floor and flee the chamber. After several failed attempts, his lady finally succeeded in forcing her brother’s eyes open.

“Mel? What time is it?” Vinar asked, confused to see his sister in his chambers.

“After midday, past time you got up,” replied Melelna.

“Something wrong?” Vinar glanced around the room and spotted Jaime by the door. “Doesn’t it feel queer that he silently follows everywhere you go?”

Melelna ignored his remark. “I want to go to the tourney grounds,” She told her brother. “Rhaegar said he’d be busy this evening so you’ll have to fill in for him.”

Vinar shook his head apologetically. “It pains me to disappoint you sweet sister but I have other plans.”

She looked intrigued. “What plans? Can I come?”

“Afraid not. I will be giving your friend Oberyn a tour of the city.”

Melelna frowned. “You don’t know the city well enough to be giving tours. And why can’t I come?”

“I know the parts that matter.” Vinar grinned at her.

Lady Vhassar picked up a velvet pillow and threw it in her brother’s face. “Pig,” she said, feigning disgust.

Vinar clutched the pillow against his bare chest. “You should be happy we get along. Didn’t meet a man I agree so much with for a very long time, I ought to admit. The bloody dornish are worse than the Lyseni if you ask me.”

“Mother would have taken offense to that statement,” Melelna scolded.

“True,” agreed Vinar, nodding solemnly before them both began laughing.

The remaining hours of the day passed like blur. Jaime watched the rest of the jousting matches with Melelna and her ladies but all the good pairings had already been called in the morning so Jaime didn’t pay them much mind. His lady gave him leave to retire for the day, since she would get an early night herself; only to wake in the dark of night to start getting ready for her wedding festivities tomorrow morning. Jaime considered seeking out Cersei. This hostility between them ate at him and made him grumpier by the second. He recalled their encounter earlier today and grimaced.

Cersei was determined to behave as if he was a stranger to her. “Choose,” she’d said, as if there was a choice to make. It was a foolish thing to listen to her in Harrenhal, Jaime could see that now. Even if Melelna was the “malevolent sly bitch”, his sister was convinced she was; it’d still be suicide to harm her. Golden twins of the Rock or not, Rhaegar would’ve had both their heads back at Harrenhal if he had discovered Jaime’s guilt. _And that was before he lost his wits with Melelna_. Now…Gods know what he’d do to them if he knew. Cersei has to accept that there is nothing to be done about the royal wedding anymore and Jaime was certain that she would eventually; he only feared of what she might do without consulting with him in the meanwhile.

When he passed by the opening to the first floor on his way down the staircase, Jaime glimpsed a petite familiar form closing a heavy door before turning his way. He stopped and waited patiently as she sauntered over to him, her plum red lips curved into a half-smile.

“Ser Jaime,” Kathlyn lightly touched his arm. “Shouldn’t you be guarding your lady?”

He did his best to ignore the sensual glimmer in her eyes as she asserted him but found himself failing. “Lady Melelna dismissed me for the day. I imagine she will be retiring to bed soon. The wedding preparations start well before sunrise.”

She looked disappointed. “The night is still young. Don’t tell me you are going to bed too, ser.”

“I should if I want to be alert for the entirety of the long day that awaits for me come morning.”

Her gaze fell to his swollen lip. “The lover who gave you that bite will surely be disappointed to part with you tonight.”

Jaime hardened his face into what he hoped was an unreadable mask. “That is no bite, only a cut I got myself sparring. The knights of the Kingsguard take solemn vows, my lady. We do not have lovers.”

She smiled. “Of course, how could I forget?” Lady Kathlyn turned towards the steps and glided her fingers over the smooth marble railing. “Sweet dreams, ser Jaime.”

Jaime watched her go and cursed himself for the way he involuntarily undressed her with his eyes, imagining all the things he could do with her petite shapely body. When she disappeared from his line of sight and the fog in his head finally cleared, he suddenly realized which door lady Kathlyn had come out of. _She was with Vinar,_ he thought with slight amusement. _She’d take me tonight if I asked, right after she left him. The Vhassar must not be as good as the ladies of the court seem to think he is._

That night Jaime found himself turning and sweating in his narrow white bed, torturing his mind with thoughts of Cersei; and every once in a while, of large brown eyes gazing up at him with want, beneath long dark lashes.

**…**

The first faint shine of orange on the horizon announced the beginning of the busy day that awaited everyone inside the castle. Jaime felt more tired than he was climbing into bed the night before. It made no matter, Melelna was probably up and about, getting brushed and garnished by a dozen maidservants and would soon leave the Maidenvault to start her wedding day by breaking her fast with the nobles inside the Small Hall. Jaime had to be at her side before that. He made quick work of washing himself at the bathhouse and a young squire helped him don his pale armour.

The noise from the commotion inside Melelna’s chambers greeted him long before he reached her door. She stood surrounded by a flock of women, all poking and pulling at her hair or gown.

She gave him a despaired look when she spotted him enter but smiled brightly at one of the women when she announced that her hair was all done and held up a silver looking glass for Melelna to inspect the final result.

Amir entered and Jaime immediately noticed his clothing. The captain of Melelna’s household guard usually dressed himself in all black hooded tunics and trousers, darkened boiled leather and some light mail over that but today he wore black flowing silks and a leather vest which bore the outline of an elephant stitched in silver thread. The same silver thread decorated the hem of the linen hood that still concealed most of his head. “My lady,” Jaime said. “If I may ask, why do your guards always cover their faces?”

Melelna looked uncomfortable. “Well, it goes back a few generations. What do you know of old Volantis, ser?”

Jaime tried to recall what the maesters had tried to teach him when he was a boy but came up almost completely blank. “Really tall walls around it, very wide and raised using some sort of sorcery,” he managed.

“Perhaps, but do you know how it works inside the Black Walls?”

Jaime shook his head “no” so she continued, “Only families who can trace their blood back to Valyria can reside inside, and everyone else can only enter if they have been invited by one of us. That includes household slaves, let it be guards or servants. My family belongs to the elephant faction but that was not always the case. After the doom, most of our family stayed in Volantis but the rest spread all over the free cities. It was chaotic back then, everyone revolting, dragons and dragonriders being slain left and right. Eventually, when all that passed and the waters became calmer, the most important of our line made their seat inside the Black Walls while some cousins and distant relatives dwelled in the rest of the free cities. All had slaves who were trained from a young age as household guards but the best of them were always sent to serve in Volantis. One of my forefathers felt that even though their presence inside the Palace was necessary, it was still insulting to have them there. So the household slaves wore hoods. My family comes from very proud Valyrian blood, you see. It hasn’t even been a century since my great-grandfather decided that he cared more about coin than he did about old pride and started supporting the elephants instead of the tigers. The servants stopped wearing the hoods some time after that, but the guards kept them. It was their choice, truly. I think they view it as some sort of honour.” From the way she said her last words, Melelna didn’t seem to agree with the tradition.

“It is an honour,” Amir broke in. “A slave in Volantis is worth less to a Master than the shit in his chamber pot, they have no illusions about that. But, receiving that hood, means that one is notable enough to guard Lord Vhassar and those of his body. However small it may seem to you, it still is a recognition of worth. Slaves don’t get many of those in their insignificant lives.”

Jaime nodded. Keeping slaves was a forbidden practice in Westeros so he was a little uncomfortable with the subject but he understood what Amir meant.

Melelna was finally ready to depart for the Small Hall where she and the Prince would receive their wedding gifts and break their fast with the nobles who travelled all the way from every part of the realm to witness the royal union. From what Jaime had heard during the wedding planning, The Volantene lady would have to suffer through changing her attire and hair twice more today. Once before the ceremony that would take place at the Great Sept of Baelor atop Visenya’s Hill and one more time before the feast.

They had to navigate through tables and chairs when they crossed the yard outside the throne room to enter the Tower of the Hand. The King wasn’t among those already waiting inside the Hall but Queen Rhaella stood proudly beside her firstborn son and smiled broadly at Melelna when she saw her enter. From what he had heard from his sworn brothers, Aerys wouldn’t be attending the Ceremony either and had ordered that Prince Viserys stays behind too.

Jaime took his place behind Melelna’s seat and scanned the large room. Both Martell brothers were already here, Oberyn being one of the first to make his way to the raised dais where the couple was seated. Servants came and went, filling the tables with platters of fruit cakes, boiled eggs, buttered bread and bacon. Melelna barely ate anything, he noticed. But she did take a goblet of Arbor Gold to gracefully sip at from time to time.

After everyone was done eating, the couple was presented with gifts. Prince Doran’s present was a set of matching silver rings, each decorated with a ruby; Lord Baratheon brought Rhaegar black bracers and Melelna an elegant bracelet; The Stark a carved weirwood bow for the Prince and a snow-fur coat for the Princess. There were knifes and breastpins and more bows, until there was only one final guest left to give his gift.

The bride’s brother waited for last. Two of his Tyroshi guards walked up to the dais, carrying a large wooden box with three dragon heads carved on its front. When he pushed the lid open, everyone seem to go silent at once. “Three eggs for the three dragons of your husband’s house,” He told his sister, who stared at the box with wide eyes. One was red, splashed with a deeper crimson, the colour of blood; the second was a pale azure streaked with silver; and the last one golden cream covered with veins of bronze.

Melelna got off her seat and walked to where Vinar stood next to his gift. She reluctantly lowered her hand to smoothly run her fingers over the crimson egg. There were a thousand emotions written on her face all at once. Jaime wasn’t certain if she would begin to laugh or cry. Rhaegar must’ve also worried about her reaction because he quickly made his way to her and took hold of her hand. The prince’s touch seemed to remind her where she was. Melelna turned to her brother and bestowed him with a warm smile. “Thank you, Vinar. They are…perfect,” she said. “But, how?”

“Doesn’t matter how, they are yours now.” Vinar hugged his sister and affectionately kissed her brow. “The man who sold them to me said that the years turned them into stone, but may they bring you luck in your new life here, sweet sister.”

 

…

Rays of all the colours of the rainbow slashed through the high windows of the Great Sept, washing the room with vivid light. Melelna had changed into her ivory gown. The dress was made of flowing layers of pale delicate silk and glittering amethysts on the bodice. It covered her from throat to toes but most her back and arms were visible through the sheer lace. Blues and reds and purples reflected from the gems decorating the dress, making Melelna appear flamboyant like a beacon where she stood high up the steps with the Prince and High Septon.

Rhaegar was the image of Aegon the Conqueror come again, only missing his Valyrian steel crown. His black doublet was made of the finest velvets and a deep red half-cape was secured by a silver dragon pin on one shoulder.

His High Holiness began to give the seven blessings, the rubies and sapphires on his splendid crown twinkling with the movements of his head. The vows were spoken next and finally the challenge went answered.

Vinar moved forward and unfastened his sister’s maiden cloak. The Vhassars didn’t have a sigil but not many in the free cities did. Melelna had chosen to wear a white cloak with the elephant of her father’s political faction stitched upon it with golden shimmering thread.

Rhaegar draped his bride in the black-and-crimson cloak bearing his house’s sigil with affection before he lovingly put one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. “With this kiss I pledge my love,” he said and Melelna echoed the words after him. The prince pulled her closer to him and gently touched his lips to her own. When they broke apart, the High Septon made a move to raise his crystal and proclaim them husband and wife but Rhaegar lowered his head to kiss her again, longer and deeper this time. Loud cheers and a few laughs emitted from the onlookers.

When the prince released his bride for a second time, the pious man gave an awkward smile and raised his crystal with both hands. “Here in the sight of the gods and men, I do solemnly proclaim Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Melelna of House Vhassar to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them,” he announced in a booming voice.

Jaime led the procession from the Great Sept along with ser Arthur. Children followed them, scattering petals cheerfully before the royal couple. A sea of noble lords and ladies trailed behind as the passed through the Hall of Lamps and out the great doors to reach the marble steps of the plaza. Beyond them, a line of gold cloaks held back the crowd who came to see and cheer their Prince and new Princess, beneath the shadow of the enormous statue of King Baelor the Blessed.

The first to congratulate the newlywed couple was Lord Jon Connington, then came Jaime’s own father; Cersei close behind. His sister didn’t even look at his direction as she hastily wished them a long and fertile marriage. More and more nobles followed, the que of men and women outside the sept seeming like it did not have an end.

When it finally did end, Rhaegar helped his Princess mount a snow-white mare before he climbed onto his black stallion. Elysse smoothed the tail of Melelna’s gown so it fell gracefully over the animal, draping most of its back legs and tail.

The cheers and loving shouts of the commons followed them all the way to the castle’s gates. The Prince swooped his bride off her saddle outside the Maidenvault and kissed her once more before allowing her to return to her room and change into the gown for the feast.

The Kingsguard waited outside the door as lady Ashara and lady Kathlyn helped Melelna into her final dress for the day. _A few more hours and this crazy day will be over_ , Jaime encouraged himself.

The door opened abruptly and Melelna emerged from the chamber, garbed in a blood-red dress that gave him pause. The white gown she wore at the sept made her shine like a pure silver star. This one...this one made her look like sin draped in crimson. The thin straps holding the gown up were the only thing covering her pale shoulders and the deep neckline of the gown would give sweet dreams to many of the men tonight, Jaime was sure of it.

Lady Kathlyn caught his short but throughout inspection of his lady’s attire and amusingly raised a brow at him. Jaime ignored her. “Are you ready to leave for the feast, Princess?” He asked Melelna, offering his arm.

Melena nodded and put her arm through his. She threw curious glances between him and lady Kathlyn on their way to the throne room, making Jaime wonder what the dornish woman had told her.

**_Melelna_ **

The loud laugher and chatter diminished around them as the Kingsguard led her and Rhaegar to the raised dais beneath the enormous Iron throne. The King and Queen were already seated and little Prince Viserys made a move to climb off his chair when he saw them approaching, but his mother quickly grasped his arm to halt him and whisper in his ear.

It took all of Melelna’s willpower not to bristle when the King kissed her hand and offered her congratulations, making no mention of his absence at the ceremony. She didn’t mind his lack of attendance and was glad when he left the room not even twenty minutes after everyone was seated. She wondered what the nobles thought of the state of their royal sire but quickly dismissed all thoughts of Aerys. Today was her day and Rhaegar’s, nothing else mattered.

The prince touched her bare shoulder, causing her to turn to him. Rhaegar did not speak, only brought his lips down on hers and kissed her lovingly as he did so many times today. “Hungry today, aren’t you?” Melelna teased after the third time he’d done it since being seated.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to hold back touching you when we have eyes upon us anymore,” Rhaegar said and lowered his mouth on hers again to make his point.

Melelna laughed against his lips and felt her heart skip a beat when it dawned on her how happy she truly was. So happy in fact, that for a moment she felt terrified that somehow this all would be taken from her. She gently touched Rhaegar’s cheek. “I love you.” Her words were barely audible but judging from the shine in Rhaegar’s eyes when she said them, he must’ve heard. “And I love you,” her replied. “Now and forever.”

The Prince stood and raised his cup, causing every eye to fall on him. “To my lovely wife, the Princess Melelna,” he cheered joyfully.

“ _To Princess Melelna!”_ The Great Hall echoed before everyone brought their goblets to their lips and drank long and deep.

Singers took their turns entertaining the guests while the food courses were being carried out but when the Prince took his place in front of the dais with his silver harp, he put them all to shame. Rhaegar only played one song, one he’d never played for her before.

He sang of moon-touched hair and amethyst eyes with such fervent emotion that Melelna had to bring a hand over her heart and battle with the tears moistening her eyes. “You…the song, it was so beautiful,” she managed to say when Rhaegar returned to his seat. “When did you write it?”

“I began composing it when I first saw you,” he confessed. “It didn’t take me long to finish but I thought to hold off playing it until today. The song is my own gift to you.”

“No one ever wrote a song for me,” Melelna told him honestly. “I didn’t think it could mean that much, but it does. I thought my brother set the bar too high with the dragon eggs but this gift…I treasure more.”

Rhaegar smiled. “Singers oft take inspiration from beautiful women, and you are the most beautiful of them all. Perhaps they feared your father too much to sing it to you but I promise you, love, there is no way no one ever wrote a song for you.”

Melelna giggled. “If you say so, my Prince.” She still doubted it but Rhaegar might have the right of it. Their bards and entertainers in Volantis were all slaves. Writing a song for a Triarch’s daughter could be viewed as an offense and easily earn them the knife. “But even if they did, I will never get to hear those songs. Will you write me another one?” she jokingly urged.

“I shall write you a thousand more songs if that is your wish. Anything for you, my love,” Rhaegar vowed and brought her hand to his lips to place a lingering kiss on her knuckles.

Men boasting that they would bring the stars and moon down if she willed it was nothing new for her. Nobles had a way with words on both sides of sea, especially when trying to win the affections of someone of such high birth as Melelna. But Rhaegar’s promises and declarations sounded different to her ears. She might be a fool for believing everything coming out of that man’s beautiful mouth but she was an extremely content fool. 

The frolics continued for another hour and plates of sweet-smelling foods came and went as the night grew older. Melelna laughed merrily when a juggler lost his balance and all his props fell one after the other on his head, and watched with fascination while the King’s pyromances produced doves made of emerald flame, who flew up high among the dragon skulls adorning the walls, only to finally fade into nothing. The living doves were soon to follow, since it was almost time for the wedding pie.

Melelna clutched the hilt of Rhaegar’s sword and the Prince closed his fingers around hers to guide their movement as they both brought the blade down on the enormous crispy pie. The hall was overflowing with the sound of flattering wings and joyful laugher. _It all seems like a dream,_ she thought, scared that she might soon wake to find herself alone in her bed back in Volantis. She’d never dared imagine that she would ever find such bliss in another person, especially not a Prince. And she was his Princess starting today. _Now and forever,_ she remembered.

All her fears were forgotten in an instant when Rhaegar stood and offered his hand so they would lead the dance. The Prince swirled her around the floor gracefully, occasionally bringing her closer against his chest to whisper honeyed words in her ear. Melelna danced with her brother next and her white knight after him.

 Ashara danced with her northern wolf and Queen Rhaella with Prince Lewin. Melelna noticed Lady Kathlyn looking expectantly at Jaime until he reluctantly strode to her and offered his hand. The dornish woman was four and twenty, she knew. Jaime only seventeen. But they made a beautiful image as they spun about in each other’s arms; her with the dark dornish looks and Jaime with his hair of spun gold and eyes of the brightest jade.

The song changed and with it the dancing partners, so she found herself face to face with Oberyn. “You look radiant,” the prince of Dorne told her when they began to move to the sound of the flutes and harps. “May he keep that euphoric smile on your face for many years to come.”

Melelna blushed and was about to thank Oberyn for his kind words but her attention snapped to one of the tables in front of the dais when Lord Robert rose from his seat and guffawed before lifting his cup up high. “Your grace,” Rhaegar’s cousin bellowed. “We ate and danced and laughed most gleefully. But the hour grows late and your bride’s feet must surely have begun to ache from all that dancing. I say it is time to carry you both to bed.”

Loud shouts of agreement emerged from the men around her along with the beat of the drums, or that might have been her heart throbbing from fear. The bedding tradition was explained to her beforehand so she expected it but knowing and doing were two very different things.

Before she had time to comprehend what was to happen next, a pack of men approached her eagerly, all smelling heavily of wine and making her stomach recoil with their bawdy jests. But it was Vinar who protectively hauled her into his arms and carried her towards the back of the room to exit the Great Hall from the King’s door behind the throne.

They pulled and tugged at her dress while her brother made his way to the inner castle until she was wearing nothing but her smallclothes. Her chest was left bare since she couldn’t wear a shift under that dress but Vinar turned her in his arms so her torso was flush against him, concealing her naked chest. When one of the men tried to untie the knot on her hip which secured the smallclothes over her lady parts, her brother almost growled. “That’s enough,” he said in a voice that allowed no argument. “You sorry lot of windbags already saw much more than you deserve.”

Only Melelna, Vinar and her Kingsguard were allowed to cross the bridge over the dry moat and enter Maegor’s Holdfast. Jaime led them to the prince’s chambers and Vinar gently placed her on the bed before kissing her brow and leaving her to wait for her husband to arrive.

 **Rhaegar was missing his jacket and** the laces on his breaches were undone when he entered. “I’m sorry about that,” was the first thing he told her. “It must’ve been queer for you.”

“It was,” Melelna admitted. “But having Vinar be the one to carry me helped.”

“Tonight is going to be different,” he informed her as he kicked off his boots and started to shed the clothes that remained him. “Tonight we are going to take it slow.”

She was a little surprised at his words. “Slow?”

Rhaegar climbed into bed next to her and started unfastening the ties of her smallclothes. “I always have to hurry when we are together,” he said when she was completely bare before him. “To leave before the sun rises and someone chances upon me exiting your room, or come up with ways that don’t look suspicious to enter your chambers during the day. There is never enough time to appreciate you and offer all the attention a creature as beautiful as you deserves.” He lowered himself a place a kiss on her hip bone. “No such vexations tonight.”

Melelna watched him with hooded eyes as he trailed kisses up her torso to find her lips. His hands smoothed up and down her body, seeming to try and touch her everywhere at once. And she wanted him to do just that. She savoured the feel of his elegant fingers on her skin and her own hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they connected on his nape to push his head lower, toward her breasts.

Her prince eagerly complied with her silent request, taking a stiffened nipple in his mouth. He gently bit down on it before swirling his tongue over the rosy bud to soothe the hurt, making her moan. Her other nipple received his attentions next, while his fingers pinched and rolled the one he had abandoned between them.

She made to wrap her legs around his waist but he gripped both her ankles and dropped himself lower, to hook them over his shoulders as his face were mere inches from her core. The first lick of his tongue sent shudders through her body. Soon, her skin felt on fire when he added his fingers to the act, rhythmically pumping them inside her as he lapped and bit at her sensitive nub. His indigo eyes never stopped gazing up at her as he worked her body as skillfully as he could work his silver harp.

Her first climax of the night found her before long and Melelna allowed the intense feeling to wash over her body, consuming all her senses. But it was not enough. She wanted more. She needed to feel him closer, deeper. “Rhaegar,” she urged, looking down at him with desperate appeal in her eyes.

“What do you want, Melelna?” He lifted himself up but didn’t remove his fingers.

“You. I want you,” she told him as he stroked her with his thumb, causing her to almost fall over the edge again.

He smiled down at her. “You have me. I’m your husband, remember? You ought to be more specific.”

“Rhaegar please, I want…I want you inside me.”

Rhaegar smiled sinfully and shifted his position to lay with his back on the headboard. “Then put me inside you, love,” he encouraged.

She didn’t need to be told a second time.

Melena straddled him and brought a hand between them to guide his length to her entrance. She took her time lowering herself onto him, drunk on the ravenous look in his eyes. When she had him fully sheathed inside her, she gripped both his shoulders to support herself while she moved. Rhaegar let her play for a while, laying completely still as she lifted and pushed her body. Then he appeared to have lost any control he had over his hunger because he seized both her thighs and guided her motions. He thrust his hips up in time with her own movements, plunging himself as deep as he could go. All sense of reality left her, leaving only the feel of him inside her to rule her thoughts and actions for the remainder of that night.


	13. Chapter XII | The Morning After

**_Melelna_ **

“Tell me again why you have to leave our marriage bed so early in the morning,” Rhaegar complained when Melelna slipped off the great four-poster bed and wrapped herself in her bedrobe.

“Well, for one, the final jousting matches begin in less than three hours,” Melelna reminded him. “And you know that I asked your mother to break her fast with me this morning. At this rate, The Queen is going to arrive in my own solar before me.”

“My mother can break her fast with you here.” He patted the spot next to him on the mattress. “Come back to bed, love. I’m not done with you.”

Melelna shook her head. “It has to be in the Maidenvault. There is something there that I want to give her.” It was hard to deny him, but this was important. Rhaegar’s mother has done so much for her since arriving in the capital. The wedding was organized by her, many of the gowns that she wore were Rhaella’s gifts and most of all, the Queen had treated her as if Melelna was her own daughter. Selecting a gift to show your appreciation to such a person was not an easy task, but Melelna was content with her choice.

As she had predicted, Queen Rhaella was already waiting in her solar when Melelna entered. The table was already set too.  

“Your Grace.” she curtsied. “Thank you for accepting my invitation this morning. My apologies for my tardiness.”

“You know I’m always happy to see you, Melelna.” Rhaella smiled and beckoned the table. “Let us eat before we talk.”

Melelna lowered herself on the seat opposite to the Queen and cleared the plate of fruit-smelling lemoncakes slowly, not to seem too eager, but savoured every single sweet bite she took. After they had both finished with their food, the maids cleared the table and left them alone in the chamber.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about, my sweet. Is anything amiss with my son?” asked the Queen.

Melelna gave her a reassuring smile. “No, your grace. This is about something else.” She fidgeted with her hands nervously before giving herself a mental slap and clearing her throat. “When I lost my mother, a part of me died with her, I think. A mother’s love is different to all other kinds and no matter how many loving people you have in your life, none of them can replace it when it’s gone. I thought that I lost that forever when her pyre was lid. But then I met _you_. You have welcomed me with open arms even though you did not know me, you helped me adapt without pressuring me, and trusted me with the happiness of your son. I will forever be grateful for that. This is a small token of my appreciation. A little thing compared to all Your Grace has done for me, but I’ve put all my heart into making it for you.”

She rose from the table and strode to her little art corner, as Rhaegar liked to call it. Queen Rhaella followed, regarding her with interest.

When she reached the wide wooden canvas by the east window, she nervously undraped it, clutching the crimson sheer cloth tightly between her fingers. “I hope it is to Your Grace’s liking.” She’d been working on the portrait since she had first met the Queen, making certain that she took all the necessary time and care to make it as life-like as possible. She’d chosen to potray her as she was the day Melelna had met her, a splendid golden gown and a tiara decorated with rubies on her head.

The Queen looked at the painting with what appeared to be awe. She raised a finger towards the canvas but hesitated. “Child, you need to stop calling me ‘your grace’. You married my son. That gives you the right to call me ‘mother’.”

“Of course.” Melelna smiled. “I have ordered protective glass to be made for it. Hopefully, it will be ready before me and Rhaegar leave the city. Do you like it, your gr–mother?”

“I love it,” The Queen declared, then suddenly pulled Melelna into a tight hug. “Thank you, Melelna. This was very thoughtful of you. Rhaegar said that you are gifted with a paintbrush but I never comprehended the extent of your talent.” There was a hint of sadness in her eyes when she stepped back. “I wish that you and my son weren’t leaving the city, but at the same time, I’m glad you are.”

“If it is your wish that we sta–”

“No, my sweet child,” Rhaella cut her off. “You should go. The weather is getting warmer…spring is upon us many maesters agree. A perfect time for you to see the Riverlands.” The Queen brushed a silver lock away from Melelna’s face. “You should be leaving for the grounds soon. Let us choose you an appropriate gown.”

Melelna left the maidenvault with a grin on her face. The gift had pleased the Queen, she could tell. Belio fell into step beside her as she made her way down the steps of the red-walled building’s entrance since Jaime was competing this morning. Her prince was waiting for her at the Red Keep’s stables.

“My sweet princess,” she heard a soft voice call behind her, causing her to halt and turn. A plum man dressed in colourful silken robes hastily made his way to her with graceful small steps. “You look lovely this morning,” the man tittered when he reached her. “Would you mind if I walked with you? All these months in our city, and yet, we’ve never had the chance to exchange more than three words with one another.”

“Lord Varys.” She forced a smile to appear on her lips. “It would be my great pleasure,” she lied as she slid her arm through his. Melelna didn’t have any notable reasons to dislike the man, but there was something queer about his ways; and Rhaegar didn’t seem fond of him, which naturally made her wary of the King’s Master of Whisperers.

“That was a lovely gift that you gave the Queen,” he observed as they walked, causing her to almost miss a step. “Such a pensive gesture from someone so young.” He glanced at her and giggled at the perplexed expression on her face. “Oh, you are wondering how I came to know about it so soon. It is the nature of my service to know things as they happen, sweetling.”

Melelna shifted uncomfortably. “It is kind of you to say so, my lord.”

“Rhaella was but three and ten when she gave birth to your husband, did you know?” He did not wait for her answer. “She has always been such a dutiful Queen and wife, your good-mother.”

“Her Grace is an example for us all,” Melelna agreed, not knowing why he was telling her this.

Lord Varys slowed his pace, forcing her to decrease her own as well. “The Seven Kingdoms had all sorts of Queens over the years,” he began. “Some were silent, remembered only for the sons they bore for their husbands. Others made such a loud clatter that they had to be forcibly removed. But there were also those who knew how to make just the right amount of noise to bring unity and prosperity within the realm. Queen Alysanne is a great example of such a woman, do you know of her?”

“No,” Melelna admitted. “Forgive me, my lord, but I haven’t had the time to go through all the history books yet.”

Varys smiled warmly at her. “She was such a memorable woman, that one.” They neared the stables and she was relieved to see Rhaegar waiting for her with their horses already saddled. The bald man noticed the Prince too. “Which sort of Queen will _you_ make, I wonder?” He bowed and left her staring after him as he gracefully retreated back to the castle.

She barely had time to comprehend his words before she felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder. “What did he want?” Rhaegar asked as soon as she turned, an unreadable look on his face.

“Nothing, he wanted to compliment me on the gift I gave your mother.”

“Gift?” He abruptly pulled her into his arms. “Ah, yes, I remember now. The reason I couldn’t have my wife on the morning after our wedding.”

Melelna laughed and let him lock his hold around her. “You are still going on about that?” She kissed his jaw. “Later,” she promised.

Rhaegar shifted the position of his arms and hauled her off her feet to help her mount _midnight_. “You never told me what the gift was,” he said after he climbed onto his own black mare.

“A portrait of her, on a large wooden canvas.”

“The one you had covered in your chambers? I always thought to check what you had hidden under there, but by the time we end up in your bedchamber, I always get distracted.”

“Well, you can see it now,” she told him, smiling. Melelna glanced around and searched their escort. “Where is Arthur?” she asked when she didn’t spot Rhaegar’s sworn shield.

“Already there. The first joust of the day is him against ser Barristan. Makes for a good start for the final matches.”

Arthur was indeed already down by the Kingsguard’s pavilion, all armoured up, the white scales on his plate flashing under the morning sun.

The tent entrance flapped and Jaime emerged, also looking ready for his own joust against Lord Jon Connington. When he noticed them dismounting, he approached Rhaegar. “Your grace,” he gave a deep bow. “May we speak privately?”

“Yes,” Rhaegar told him. He began walking toward the side of the pavilion, Jaime trailing behind. She could not hear their words but she eventually saw Rhaegar raise his hand and touch Jaime’s shoulder before giving a court nod. He turned and looked at her then, his lips curved into a smile.

Melelna scanned the numerous banners flapping all around her. She spotted a purple unicorn and a white spider, twin blue towers, two knights combatant with raised swords and the most dominant sigil of them all: her husband’s three-headed dragon. _My sigil as well as his now_ , she reminded herself. They didn’t care much for heraldries in Essos, but Melelna liked the idea of having one.

Ashara and Kathlyn waited for her on the royal stands, both dressed in similar dornish gowns of flowing silk and lace.

“Who do you think is going to win?” she asked when both knights of the Kingsguard took their positions on opposite sides of the tilt.

“My brother,” Ashara said absently. “Arthur is going to win this tourney, I’m sure of it.”

Ashara wasn’t wrong, about the first tilt at least. Her brother pushed ser Barristan off his saddle with remarkable precision. Melelna may not be the most experienced judge when it comes to jousting, but she admired the Kingsguard’s extraordinary ability with a lance all the same.

Jaime’s joust was next, her sworn shield defeating lord Jon with noticeable ease and earning himself a position in the finals along with ser Arthur. Melelna rose from her seat and cheered Jaime with the rest of the high ladies and sea of commons who’d had come to watch the great tourney as he waved at the crowd from atop his white destrier. She didn’t know the names of the knights who came next, or the ones after, but all the ladies agreed that they looked most gallant in their polished plate as they sat upon their armoured horses.

The last four matches would take place in the evening, so Melelna strode to the pavilion which had been raised for her to eat and refresh herself before she had to return for them. Ashara and Kathlyn flanked her, arguing about who they thought would be the champion by day’s end. Ashara was convinced that it would be her brother, Kathlyn’s coin was on Jaime. Melelna had taken notice of the way lady Kathlyn looked at her Kingsguard and wondered if the affection was one sided or not. She liked lady Allyrion well enough, but Jaime had sworn chastity on the day he’d received his pale cloak. Rhaegar had given her leave to choose any lady she wanted to serve with Ashara as her ladies-in-waiting and Kathlyn was the first one Melelna had seriously considered but if she tangles herself with Jaime...

Her thoughts were interrupted when they entered her tent and she found Amir waiting inside. Her brother was sitting at the table, his face half buried in his hands. She understood at once.

Melelna dismissed the two ladies and took a seat next to him, gently pulling his hands away from his face.

“Did you know?” Amir asked, even though he was probably certain that she did.

“I did,” she admitted. “Forgive me, Amir, but it was not my secret to tell. He wanted to tell you himself.”

“I see,” he said and absently stared at a crimson make-shift wall.

“Are you upset?” Melelna warily asked. So far, she caught no indications of how her brother felt about the news.

“Upset?” Amir shook his head. “No. I suppose I could do much worse for a father. It’s just that…” her brother sighed and rubbed at his temples. “There was a time, all I wanted was a father. I would dream of having him train and spar with me…I asked her about him once, you know. I asked if he knew about me, if he was from Lys but you know how those conversations went.”

“Then why do you look so distressed?”

Amir looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m not a child anymore, Mel. I don’t sit on the beach waiting for a make-believe father to come to my rescue. I don’t know what to do with this information, with him. He is upset with mother, I think. He never said as much but I could see it in his eyes. He offered…” her brother sighed again. “It doesn’t matter what he offered. The point is, I can’t just…”

Melelna covered his hand with her own. “And no one expects you to. I am a little upset with mother too. Don’t blame him for it, Amir. She hid you from him, and in doing so, she denied you the life you might have had in Dorne instead of serving as a slave in Volantis.” She raised her hand when Amir began to talk, no wonder to defend their mother’s choice. “But it does no one any good to judge her for it now, so tell me, what did he offer?”

“He said that I have potential, that I could make a great knight. He explained that due to his position, he can’t openly acknowledge me as his bastard but I could live in Dorne if I wanted, or here.”

“And what did you tell him?” It would hurt her to lose Amir but if it was his wish to know his new-found family, she wouldn’t oppose it.

“That I want to stay with you,” her brother sternly replied. “I promised never to leave you, Mel. I keep my vows.”

Melelna smiled and let the relief that she felt at his answer wash through her. “I won’t deny that I’m happy to hear that,” she told him.

“He asked about the scars…” That had her smile freezing on her lips. “He wanted to know who gave them to me. I considered lying but most of our guards know that it was Nyessos who’d given that command, so I told him it was my old master. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him the reason.”

Amir stayed with her until it was time for the final jousts, barely talking or touching the food that the servants had brought for them, but she couldn’t blame him. It must be a shock to learn who your father is so late in your life, especially if he happens to be a Prince and a sworn knight of the Kingsguard both.

When they returned to the field, her ladies were already there but Rhaegar had disappeared somewhere. He did that a lot since the nobles had begun to arrive in the city, she realized. Surely his duties as the crown prince demanded that he plays the part but Melelna had a feeling that there was something else at play here, something her prince wasn’t telling her.

She thought about lord Varys then, and the meaning behind his guarded words. _I’m going to be the Queen,_ she thought. _Maybe not for another decade or longer, but eventually my prince is going to become King, and I, his Queen on his side._ She never gave much thought to what that means; too caught up in the fairy-tale that her life had turned into since meeting Rhaegar to consider the future. She would go to the royal library tonight, she decided, and find out all she could about the dead queen that he master of whisperers had mentioned.  He told her the name for a reason, she was certain of it.

Arthur defeated a knight with splendid silver armour and a crown of white stars on his shield and Jaime drove one of his father’s western bannermen in the dirt, a loud clangour filling the air when the man’s steel made contact with the ground. That decided the final match. Rhaegar was back just in time for it too.

“It seems like one of you had it right,” Melelna told her ladies, smiling. At first, she claimed not to take any side, since Jaime was her sworn shield and Arthur Rhaegar’s, but she secretly backed the young lion. She could see how excited he has been since the tourney was announced, this was his moment.

**_Jaime_ **

“May the best man win,” Arthur said, offering his hand.

Jaime’s grip around it was firm. “May the best man win, ser,” he repeated.

They both mounted on their identical white destriers and gave a gallop around the field before taking their respective positions by the tilt.

He glanced at where his sister sat on the stands. Cersei had positioned herself as far away from the princess as she possibly could without separating herself from the rest of the nobles. His sister was convinced that Melelna had a mind to offer her a position among her ladies-in-waiting. “Imagine the praise she would get from Aerys for bringing another of Lord Tywin’s children low,” she had told him. Jaime could barely conceal his annoyance at her words but Cersei barely noticed in her rage. “Melelna has spoken your name exactly zero times while she has been in my presence,” he’d been compelled to say, which hadn’t helped to make the relations between them any better. Well, he was done trying to please Cersei. Every man had a breaking point and Jaime was nobody’s bloody lap dog, so he refused to accept being treated like one.  

He lowered the visor of his helmet and accepted his lance and shield from his two squires. He knew that he and Arthur looked like mirror images of each other, both and their horses clad in pale scaled armour with the plain shields of the Kingsguard in their grip.

The sound of the trumpet cut through the field and Jaime urged his horse forward to take off in hard gallop. He focused his vision on the other knight’s breastplate, the hand holding the lance locking into position to jerk towards that precise spot.

Both knights shuttered their lances with successfully executed hits but Jaime’s was delivered harder. He lost his balance for a second, but struggled and kept his seat on the saddle. Arthur wasn’t as successful. Jaime couldn’t help but smile when he heard the loud clang of metal that could only come from his sworn brother’s plate crashing with the dirt below.

Jaime Lannister accepted the champion’s purse and the love of the commons, and finally the crown of flowers that he was supposed to give to the one he would name his Queen of Love and Beauty. He half-heartedly passed the tip of his new lance through the ring and turned his horse towards the stands. _I wanted to win this for Cersei,_ he thought. He momentarily considered giving the crown to his sister regardless of telling the Prince that should he win, he intended to crown Melelna for the kindness she had shown towards him and his brother, but dismissed the idea. Cersei had to understand how insufferable her whims and moods had become and giving her the crown would only serve to praise the way she has been treating him since he joined the Kingsguard.

He saw his sister’s lips fall when he passed her and kept on towards the royals but forced his gaze away. He drew rein in front of where Melelna was seated and extended his lance. “I name you Queen of Love and Beauty, princess,” Jaime announced.

Melelna smiled but glanced at Rhaegar before making any move to take the crown. The prince gave a small nod so she merrily placed it on her head and thanked him warmly.

Jaime didn’t feel like staying for the celebrations of the tourney’s end. He quickly excused himself, claiming that he would return to his tent to change into lighter armour. In truth, he didn’t wish to face Cersei just yet. And he didn’t put it past her to be openly hostile towards him which would make for good castle gossip, which in turn would surely sour his father and this whole thing will somehow end up being Jaime’s fault to begin with. He walked to his personal tent instead of that of the Kingsguard, not being in the mood to accept congratulations from anyone just yet.

He unfastened his cloak and removed his pauldrons first before taking off the rest of his plate and placing it on the table for his squires to clean later. Jaime was about to change into different breeches and tunic when he heard the entrance of the tent flap open.

“You rode gallantly, ser,” lady Kathlyn said with a smile as she entered.

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaime told her. “But you didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that. I would’ve returned when I changed.”

She sauntered to where he stood by the table. “Why does my presence rattles you so, ser?”

Jaime was in no mood for one of her games. “Why won’t you just leave me be?” he asked bluntly. “There are plenty of knights in the city. Why don’t you just go and find one who’s willing?”

“Mayhaps I like a challenge.” Kathlyn stepped closer. “Or it could be that I don’t believe you.” She cupped him through his breeches. “He feels willing enough to me.”

Jaime’s eyelids snapped closed and his jaw clenched. “You keep tugging at the lion’s tail but you may not like what happens when it turns on you.” He gave her a moment to make her decision, knowing full well that with the emotional turbulence that overwhelmed his senses, he couldn’t be a gentle lover. He was angry at her for seducing him, angry at his sister for rejecting him, at the Prince for being the one Cersei wants. And himself. Himself most of all.

She squeezed his erection through the fabric and Jaime had his answer. Locking his arms around her slim waist, he pulled her up and sat her on the table behind them, pushing pieces of his amour to the floor in the process. “If I don’t spill my seed inside, I’m not forsaking my vows,” he murmured more to himself than to her as he moved to stand between her thighs.

Triumph sparked in Kathlyn’s dark eyes. “Yes,” she purred. “Let’s go with that.” She yanked her gown up around her hips and spread her legs wider apart to give him better access.

Jaime began to hastily undo the laces at his groin. “Don’t speak. Just...just…” He brought his mouth down on hers, taking her lips in a rough, starved kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying this story, consider leaving kudos or/and a comment. It would put a smile on this one's face.  
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter XIII | Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content. If you wish to avoid it, start reading at the paragraph which starts with bold text.

**_Melelna_ **

There was a chill wind coming through the open window and when it whispered on her naked skin it caused a shudder to run through her.

Rhaegar noticed and glanced up at her, lifting his head from the mattress as he lay between her spread legs. “Are you cold? Should I close the window?”

She was cold. But at the moment, the need to keep him exactly where he was overpowered her need for comfort. “No,” she lied, and then expectantly glanced down between him and the spot that he’d been kissing before her wellbeing became a concern.

He chuckled against her sex. “Good.” He touch his lips to her inner thigh. “I love what the chill does to your nipples too much.”

Melelna shuddered again, and the cool air had nothing to do with it.

Rhaegar went back to running his tongue over her slick skin, licking and kissing her everywhere but where she needed him the most. A whimper escaped her, equal parts irritation and arousal. “Why?” she breathed, barely audible. “Why do you always do this to me?” She truly didn’t understand his need to tease her, work her up so much before he truly touched her. She knew that he was torturing himself as much as he was her. She could see it in his hooded indigo eyes as he looked up at her.

He smiled. “Because it drives you mad with lust.” A finger nudged against her entrance. “And makes you forget yourself.” She almost sobbed in relief when he finally pushed it inside. “I like it when you forget yourself. You were never shy, I’m grateful for that. But somehow I feel that a part of you is always holding back for some reason–until you are in this state that is.”

She was stunned momentarily. Her mouth opened to deny his observation but no words came out. Deep down, she knew that he was right is his assumption. Her mother taught her that there was pleasure to be found in the bedchamber when she and Lysandro were old enough to feel real sexual attraction but Nyessos had always showered her with his views of how a real noble lady should behave and made terrible insults towards those who behaved any differently. She later came to realize all he told her was only his attempt to shape her into what he believed would be his ideal future bride and keep her from giving her maidenhood to Lysandro, but she’d heard his insults for so many years that she could still hear them echoing in her subconscious when she was sober enough to think.

Likely, in that moment, she was drunk with lust. _“Rhaegar.”_ It came out in a demanding tone. Crown Prince or not, he was her husband and she wanted him to quit playing this game and bury himself inside her.

“Was that a command?” He actually laughed before climbing up her body and settling himself against her groin.

She closed her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. “You want your cock inside me as much as I do. Do me a favour and stop tormenting us both. _Fuck me,_ Rhaegar.” Two could play this game. From the way his pupils dilated and his lips slightly parted, her words had gotten well and good to him. Melelna could have smirked if he didn’t abruptly lower his mouth to hers as he roughly pushed himself inside her.

There was nothing sweet about the way he took her. Every thrust was harder than the last and his fingers dug almost painfully into her hips as he held her under him. The irony of how quickly their roles changed would have amused her if she wasn’t in a very similar sexual haze, moaning and writhing as much as his tight hold on her would allow.

One hand found her left breast, squeezing it before rolling her stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Melelna pushed her head back and fisted the bedsheet on either side or her, her eyes closing in sensual bliss.

“Gods, you are so beautiful when you are about to come,” he said and curled his other arm around her thigh to lift her higher, his hand placed on her sex so his thrusts caused her clit to rub against it.

She shut her eyes arched her back as she lost herself with him, crying out his name and clutching the sheets as if her life depended on it. Her pleasure seemed to throw Rhaegar over the edge as well because his thrusts became frantic until he stilled above her and spilled himself inside her with a deep masculine grunt.

He held himself up on his elbows, so not to crush her with his weight, and breathed deeply for a few moments; but made no move to remove himself from her. She felt his lips on her shoulder, a lingering gentle touch full of unspoken emotion.

Melelna couldn’t help but smile. She brought a hand up and run it through his hair. “Can we stay in bed all day?” she asked teasingly, secretly hoping that he would say yes.

 **Rhaegar pulled out of her and rolled on his back,** bringing her with him to affectionately position her laying with her head on his shoulder, his arm curled around her waist. “I’m afraid not, love,” he said regretfully. “But tonight we are going on a little midnight ride.”

“Tonight?” she asked with evident surprise. He hated it when she was still out riding after the sun went down. That he’d suggest it himself was more than curious.

“Yes, but tell no one. We are not taking Arthur or Jaime with us. Just me and you.” He kissed the top of her head.

She was more than intrigued now. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Just don’t tell anybody and dress with the most ordinary clothes you have. Those tunics your guards wear would do nicely,” he vaguely instructed.

Melelna pressed him to tell her where he was taking her again but Rhaegar wouldn’t budge. Even so, she found herself being excited for their little overnight excursion.

The sun was climbing up the horizon but Melelna made no move to get out of bed. Rhaegar left her with a kiss and went to the adjoining chamber to take his morning bath before leaving Maegor’s Holdfast. To go where, she didn’t know. She meant to talk to him one of these days. There was something on his mind–it ate at him, she could tell. Melelna wanted to know what it is. She waited patiently for him to come to her of his own free will but it began to genuinely vex her that he wouldn’t trust her with his burdens. She only hoped that he wouldn’t lie when she asked.

She had her own bath inside the royal bathhouse. In an enormous steaming marble tub. She instructed the servants to light scented candles around the room and she brought Vinar’s gift with her as well.

Melelna didn’t know why it gave her comfort to take long hot baths with the eggs in her close proximity, occasionally taking one and hugging it to her chest as if it was not made of stone. There were times she could swear she could feel warmth radiating from the egg in her hands but a long time inside scorching water was surely affecting her judgement.

The red was the one she was drawn to the most. More oft than not since receiving the chest from her brother, Melelna found herself returning to Rhaegar’s chambers on instinct. For no good reason but an internal need to be close to the egg. The feeling wasn’t at all pleasant for her, like an overwhelming rush of anxiety that would only ease once she had the crimson egg between her hands, running her fingers over its smooth pointed scales.

**_Rhaegar_ **

The Prince of Dragonstone was restless. Most nobles had already departed from the city, the few left not significant enough for him to talk to them personally. What truly matter was their liege lords and of those he only truly talked with one.

Prince Doran was not at all an easy man to bring in his plans. His brother might have been easier to convince, hot-headed as he was, but not Doran. The ruling Prince of Dorne hadn’t actually truly refused Rhaegar’s offer but he hadn’t accepted it either.

Judging from the look on Jon’s face, Rhaegar’s friend and advisor wasn’t happy with the silence of the Martells either.

“Do you think he would give word of my plans to my father?” Rhaegar asked. The Martells left the city last night and so far no one came to arrest him but perhaps the Dornish wanted to be out of sight before they made any move.

Jon shook his head. “I don’t think he wants that kind of attention. But I don’t think he is going to be of any help either.”

Rhaegar stood from his chair and began pacing the room. “He thinks I’m going to fail. All he has to do is wait until this whole thing crumbles on my head and then offer his support to my father in exchange of his daughter marrying Viserys.”

“Probably,” Jon agreed. “Even so, you don’t need the Martells if we get everyone else.”

“We hardly have anyone else,” Rhaegar snapped.

“Yet.” Jon rose from his seat as well and gazed out the window. “The real fight is going to be in Riverrun, you know that. You win them, you might actually win everyone else. There was another development last night that you might find of interest.”

Rhaegar stopped pacing and looked at his friend expectantly. “Well? Go on.”

“Lord Tywin left the city but his daughter remained.”

“Cersei? Why?”

“He is sending her to Riverrun as his envoy for the Stark wedding. The girl is likely going to ask to join with your party or the Stark returning with your cousin. What does that tell you?” There was amusement in Jon’s eyes.

“Are you going to enlighten me or do I have to figure it out on my own?” Rhaegar asked with irritation.

“Well, he kept her at court with hopes of her wedding you in time, since it wasn’t likely for a bride of nobler blood to show up anytime soon. Your little wife ruined that plan for him so he is looking elsewhere. The Tully has only one son, the heir to Riverrun. If my suspicions are correct, he is sending her to Riverrun because he wants to make a match quietly. Tullys and Starks and binding their families with marriage, and with the Starks comes your cousin who is marrying Lord Rickard’s only daughter. The Aryns are in good terms with the North for years, and now Casterly Rock may very much be in the mix too.”

“If I win one, I might win all, yes,” Rhaegar agreed. “But if I lose one, I will _definitely_ lose all.”  

“I’m not going to pretend that what we are about to do is not the most important part of the whole plan and it’s time you took it more seriously too.” Jon gave him a lingering look full of unspoken judgment before he continued, “I understand that this wedding ended up being more than a political alliance for you and I’m truly happy that you are bound to someone who you would have chosen out of your own free will too. I also understand how important the prophecy is to you, and you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to help you fulfil it even if I cannot fully comprehend it. _But_.” He seemed to consider his next words. “Right now, the most important thing is how you are going to convince a hell of a lot of proud people to commit what is going to be called by many _treason_ of the worst kind.”

“Your point?” Rhaegar didn’t see where he was going with this.

“All I’m saying is that perhaps now is not a good time for romantic trips,” Jon lowered his eyes as he spoke, knowing full well that his words were likely to anger Rhaegar.

He was right, of course. “It’s only a day,” Rhaegar snapped.

“And another to ride there and back,” Jon remarked.

“I’m not going to explain myself on this. I won’t hear any objections about it either so If you are half as smart as you seem to think you are, you’ll drop it.” His words might have been harsh but Rhaegar had spent the majority of the festivities of his wedding trying to talk to one Lord or the other, for no good reason but to acquaint himself with them for when the time came for the council. Leaving Melelna on her own in the meanwhile, without any good explanation as to where he was going. Rhaegar knew that it would be a bad idea to let her in on his plans while they were still living inside the city. She was his wife, bound to protect his secrets by their vows but the truth was, Melelna was too trusting with the people close to her. Her brothers especially. If she let any single word slip at the wrong place–hell, even if she asked Rhaegar himself the wrong question at the wrong place…

“As Your Grace wishes,” Jon said and pulled him out of his musings about his wife. His friend sounded hurt even though he tried his best to conceal it. “Is there something else or am I dismissed?”

Rhaegar gave him an annoyed look. “Will you stop that? I only asked for a night away from all this, damn it. And no, you are not dismissed. I’m expecting Arthur with that priest. I want you here when I question him.”

“The red priest?” Jon sounded surprised. “Why do you want to question him?”

“He wants to come with us to Riverrun. All he does lately is follow Melelna around. She likes him and he is polite enough but I don’t understand why he shows so much interest in her. He is either going to tell me or he is not going to be within a thousand feet of her again.”

Jon laughed. “Jealous of that bald man? Surely you jest. I don’t know your wife all that well but even I can assure you, she’d never even consider going for that,” he said, still laughing.

“No, you idiot.” Rhaegar had the sudden urge to punch his friend straight in the face. “It’s queer. Too queer. The way he looks at her as if she holds all the answers for every question in this world…Almost like he is worshipping her. And he keeps talking to her about his God. I mean, Melelna is not really all that pious and neither am I but the prophecy…”

“What does the prophecy have to do with any of this?”

“The red priests believe in the prophecy. The name it differently, but Azor Ahai or Prince that was promised…they refer to the same person.”

“You think she has a part?” Jon asked, confused.

“I don’t know. But she has magic, some remnants of it at least–of that I’m sure.”

A knock came from the door and a moment later Arthur entered with Thoros of Myr on his heel.

“Your Grace.” The priest went to one knee. “You wished to see me?”

Rhaegar motioned to a cushioned chair. “Take a seat.”

The man complied, looking more than a little uncomfortable. He kept glancing between Rhaegar, Arthur and Jon. “How may I be of service?”

“What is your interest in my wife?” Rhaegar asked bluntly. He made it clear in his tone that if anything other than the truth came out of his mouth, it wouldn’t fair well for him.

The priest audibly swallowed. “The princess is such a pleasant person, always welcoming and–”

“What more than that?” Rhaegar interrupted him. Melelna’s personality attracted most people to her, especially men but he was certain it was not just that.

“You might not understand, Your Grace,” the priest said. “Not even I truly understand if I’m being totally honest.”

“Understand what? Humour me,” Rhaegar pressed.

“I was raised in Myr,” the man began. The prince opened his mouth to tell him that he was not interested in a prologue but a small voice in his head stopped him, insisting that this was somehow important. “I was given to R’hllor at a very young age but I was never particularly pious. When they sent me to turn your father towards our God, I saw it as a relief to leave the temple. So I stayed here, learned your Westerosi ways and enjoying my days not thinking about my mission. Or my God.” His last words were coated with shame. “But no more. The Lord has been showing me the way,” he declared.

“What way? I don’t understand.”

“They teach us a prophecy at the temple, about a champion reborn.”

 _“Azor Ahai_ ,” Rhaegar said a little too quickly.

Thoros’s eyes widened. “You know the prophecy, your grace?”

Rhaegar ignored his question. “What do you mean the lord has been showing you the way? What does Melelna have to do with it?”

“Visions,” the priest explained. “In the flames.”

“Of Azor Ahai?”

“Yes and no,” he vaguely replied.

Rhaegar was just about out of patience. “Will you stop talking in riddles? Did you or did you not see Azor Ahai in your visions?”

“I did your grace,” the priest admitted making Rhaegar’s whole body go still. “But his face is always a flaming blur to my eyes.” He hesitated. “But your wife…”

“My wife what?”

“I saw her kiss his flaming sword…” he said with evident awe his voice. “I saw her put her lips on _Lightbringer_.”

 

 

 


	15. Chapter XIV | "Trust me."

**_Jaime_ **

Jaime wasn’t proud of his current situation. But he had somehow convinced himself that it was for the best for everyone, including those he swore to give his life for if need be.

Not that he wasn’t pleased to see Lady Kathlyn curled on the blanket next to him, in a forgotten storage room of the Maidenvault. But he had sworn vows. _How am I supposed to defend anyone when all I can think of is how hard my cock is when she is around?_ he thought with irritation.

“Where did you go?” Kathlyn murmured, drawing circles on his chest with the tip of her finger.

“What?” Jaime glanced down at her, pulling her closer as she half-straddled him with one naked leg.

“You looked like you were thinking too hard about something. So, where did you go?”

He avoided the question. “How is it that the rest of the Dornish have left but you are still around?” In truth, Jaime wasn’t certain how he felt about her sticking around. He enjoyed having her in the city–that was plain. But if she’d returned to Dorne, he would have no choice but to stop. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t his own decision to make anymore.

Unfortunately, the impassiveness in his tone didn’t fool her.

Kathlyn pulled herself up on her elbows. “Would you have preferred it if I have left, ser?”

Jaime had a full view of her small naked breasts, strands of her long dark hair falling over delicate shoulders. He couldn't help his gaze from wandering. “I’m not sure. You know I enjoy making love to you.”

She let out a giggly laugh, her amber eyes sparking with amusement. “Is that what we are doing? Making love?”

The Kingsguard shook his head. He truly couldn’t understand her most of the time. “You are an odd woman,” he mumbled and pushed himself up, looking around to spot his scattered clothes. “I need to go. We must’ve been here for an hour.”

“I’m still in the city because the Princess has offered me a position alongside Ashara,” she said as Jaime was lacing his breeches, making him still for a heartbeat.

“You are coming to Riverrun.” He didn’t make it sound like a question but she nodded, not saying anything more. She wanted a reaction out of him first it seemed. “On the road. We can’t…”

“…fuck?” she provided.

Jaime ignored the discomfort at his groin. “And the Princess, she can’t know.” He rubbed at his temples, realizing how complicated this could get. “Maybe…Maybe we should…”

“…Stop?” Kathlyn smiled and got on her feet, naked as the day she was born. “If that’s your wish. Good thing Vinar is also going with his sister, I suppose.”

Jaime’s fingers closed around her wrist as he pulled her to him. “We agreed that for as long as we have this understanding, you’ll take no other lovers.” He forced his voice to become gentler, smoothing his hands over her waist and hips until he found her shapely ass. “Not stop, just take a small pause. Until it’s safe.”

She nodded but Jaime saw the reluctance of it. He had no illusions about how little he really meant to her. It was the cloak and the name that led her in his arms. Jaime knew that from the very start. Kathlyn liked danger, excitement, small rebellions. He was all that in her eyes.

At first, he had hated her for it. Now, he was at peace with that fact. Whatever her reasons, she came to him wanting and didn’t seem to wish to gain anything out of their arrangement other than their mutual pleasure. She was always honest with him too, so what if she didn’t love him? Cersei claimed to love him a thousand times and where is she now?

“You have that look again,” Kathlyn said, pulling him out of his thoughts about his sister.

He squeezed her ass. “I’m serious, Kathlyn. It doesn’t matter if I can’t be with you for a full turn. You let anyone here–” he brought one hand between her legs and cupped her. “–and we are going to have a problem.”

Her lips slightly parted, a small moan escaping. “Would you kill him?” She looked way too pleased with the prospect him murdering someone for her.

 Jaime glaced down at her in disbelief. “You really _are_ crazy, aren’t you?”

Kathlyn appeared to take no offense at his remark. “What if I take a woman to my bed? Would that still make you angry?”

The question sounded genuine but Jaime searched her eyes for traces of humour. “You bed with women?”

“Not now, but I used to sometimes back in Dorne. I’m pickier with them than I am with men, but in the city there are plenty to pick from.”

He didn’t want to think about what “pickier with them than with men” meant so he focused on her question. “If you really can’t help it, then I can live with that. But only women. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my sweet cub. I understand.” She shifted out of his hold. “I should be going back too.”

“Don’t call me cub,” Jaime told her, not for the first time. She only had seven years on him. He saw no need to be constantly reminded of it.

Naturally, she ignored him. “Come by chamber when your shift ends tonight. We might as well make the most of the last few days we have before we leave for Riverrun.”

Kathlyn donned the few layers of clothing that she was wearing when she first walked into this room and disappeared out the door.

It was in those moments right after she left him that Jaime found himself questioning his decision to continuously bed this woman. He scarcely knew anything about her other than her name and that she could do things with her tongue that he never even knew possible. If she suddenly decided to tell someone… _She won’t_ , he assured himself. _She has something to lose too now._

Jaime put on his remaining clothes and armour in the dim light of the one candle he had brought down here with him. After rolling the blanket and stashing it out of sight in a shadowed corner, he retreated from the room and hastily made his way up the spiral steps towards the exit of the building.

He didn’t make it three feet after taking the last step out of the Maidevault before he heard someone call after him from behind. “Ser Jaime.”

Jaime recognized that voice–how couldn’t he? He inwardly cursed and hoped that his expression wouldn’t betray him before he turned. “Ser Arthur.”

The other Kingsguard gave him a lingering look. “What were you doing in the Maidevault?” The words were spoken calmly, but Jaime saw the suspicion in the man’s dark purple eyes.

He prayed that his own wouldn’t give away the lie. “My wits took leave of me for a second, ser. I was passing outside on my way to Maegor’s and walked in out of habit.”

“When did you leave the White Tower, ser?” Arthur pressed. “I broke my fast in the common room and never saw you exit.”

“I left early,” Jaime conceded. “Sometimes I like to eat on the wall, watching the sun come up the blackwater.”

Arthur’s stare was full of silent disappointment. “Let’s go, Jaime,” he said flatly and took a step, motioning him to follow.

Jaime’s heart may have stopped for a moment there. “Go? Ser?”

“Maegor’s Holdfast. Isn’t that where you were headed? I’m on guard duty too this morning.”

_Are you an utter fool?_ he scolded himself before hastily following ser Arthur. “Yes, Maegor’s Holdfast. Beg your pardon, ser. I don’t know what has gotten into me today.”

The other man gave no reply, remaining silent as they walked towards the drawbridge, before he finally said, “It might be the other way around, I fear.”  

**_Melelna_ **

Melelna returned to Rhaegar’s chamber and carefully placed her eggs back inside their carved box. Her hand lingered over the crimson one as it always did.

“It’s only stone,” she reminded herself. But it didn’t _feel_ like cold lifeless stone. It felt like…what?

“Did you say something, sweetling?” asked Elyse.

“It’s only…come here, please.” She gestured at the egg. “Touch it.”

Her handmaid seemed puzzled by the request but complied, lightly placing her fingers on the pointy scales.

“What do you feel?” Melelna prompted.

“Feel? I’m not sure I understand your question, princess.”

“The egg, does it feel warm to you?”

Elyse appeared utterly confused. “No, the stone is cold. Why would it be warm?”

Melelna shook her head. “Forget I ever asked. I’m just being foolish.” She smiled. “Must’ve spent too long in the bath.”

Elyse’s eyes snapped up at once. “Are you feeling unwell? Should I–”

“No,” the princess rushed to say. “I’m fine. Just hungry at the moment.”

Her handmaid nodded. “I’ll send someone to the kitchens.”

When Elyse pulled the door open to exit, Melelna noticed that Jaime had arrived at his post. He usually knocked to let her know that he was here. Not today, it seemed.

“Jaime?” Melelna called. “I didn’t realize you were here. Did you eat this morn? Elyse is bringing food.”

“I did, princess. It’s kind of you to ask,” replied the Kingsguard with a smile that she was certain was forced.

There was something off with him today but she came to understand that Jaime wasn’t the sharing type. “As you will, ser.”

He made to close the door as Melelna remembered what Rhaegar had told her about tonight. “One more thing,” she added. “Do you know where Amir is?”

“His is not on guard duty today. Likely in the yard sparring with someone. Do you want me to send for him?”

“No, just…could you fetch one of his tunics for me? There should be some clean ones in his cell.”

Jaime considered her. “One of Amir’s tunics?”

Melelna knew how ridiculous it sounded but she needed that tunic. “Please, Jaime. Just do it.”

He inclined his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “As you command.”

She found herself bored for most of the day. Lady Kathlyn and Lady Ashara were good company but between the tourney at Harrenhal and the one for her wedding, Melelna grew fond of the festivities and the constant cheerful clamour.

Her mind kept wandering to her trip with Rhaegar planned for tonight. Melelna didn’t pay much thought to where they were going. He could take her for a picnic for all she cared. What kept the smile resurfacing on her face was that they’d be alone. Truly alone, for once.

She had no real complains of Rhaegar. Her prince always did his best to please her–he’d proven that more than once. But she’d missed him. Even though it was their own wedding, Melelna saw Rhaegar much less than she did in the days before everyone had begun to arrive in the city. Perhaps she was a little grateful that the festivities eased, after all.

It was well past moonrise when her husband returned to their rooms, an apologetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry. Jon wouldn’t let me leave until we went over some things.” His gaze examined her clothing. “Looking beautiful even in a rugged black tunic. I truly am a lucky man.”

She let out a small laugh. “Are we going then?”

“In a second. I’m going to change, and Arthur is making some arrangements. As soon as he returns, we leave.”

Melelna nodded, taking a seat on the bed as Rhaegar donned plain clothes, likely also taken from a guard.

They ended up leaving about an hour later, but her prince didn’t guide them towards the stables, or the Gates of the Red Keep.

She glanced at him curiously. “I thought we were leaving the castle.”

“We are.” He smiled. “Just not from the front door.”

They made their way towards the kitchens, both of their faces half concealed beneath their raised hoods. Melelna was fairly confused as she followed Rhaegar down dim corridors and shadowed staircases but the whole hide and seek situation excited her.

Her husband ended up leading them to a large room, which was surely located somewhere under the Red Keep. She could barely see anything, save for the mosaic on the floor, the Targaryen three headed dragon slightly visible thanks to the dim light of the only brazier in the room.

Rhaegar paused, picking up a torch and lightning it up. He fumbled with his pockets next, until he produced an old-looking key. “This way,” he urged.

Melelna could only hold his hand and follow as he walked through a large hole on the wall and then more darkened corridors to finally come to a stop in front of a shut iron gate. She held the torch for him as he unlocked it and afterwards locked it up again behind them. It began to feel as if there was another castle hidden beneath the one visible to the world.

After what had felt like a thousand more narrow corridors, half-hidden steps and barred doors, they approached an opening which was lit by a silvery glow that could only be the light coming from the full moon.

Melelna gasped as they walked outside and she saw a small river not ten feet away from her. “Are we outside the city?” She glanced around, spotting the tall walls of King’s landing far on the south.

“Indeed, we are,” Rhaegar confirmed. She noticed the other man then, casually leaning on a tree alongside two horses tied on a lower branch.

He approached when he spotted them and recognition came as he lowered his hood. “Your Grace,” ser Oswell greeted Rhaegar and then smiled at Melelna. “Princess.”

“Come on, love,” Rhaegar told her and walked towards the horses.

He helped her mount up before he climbed onto his own saddle, then turned back to his Kingsguard. “Thank you, Oswell. We should be back the morning after the next.”

“As you say, your grace. I’ll be here.” The Kingsguard gave a deep bow and began to make his way to the opening they had come through.

Rhaegar seemed to know the way well enough–wherever they were going–even though they had to ride through some very dark parts of the Kingswood. The strong light of the full moon adorning the night sky didn’t help much where the trees were dense. They must’ve gone on for a few hours before they reached what appeared to be an actual path.

“Where are we?” Melelna asked.

“Just inside the Stormlands,” Rhaegar replied, then pointed south. “Those are the red mountains of Dorne. That’s where we are headed.”

“On the mountains?”

“Near the foothills.” He urged his gelding in that direction. “Almost there now.”  

The road they were following didn’t seem to have been maintained for a while; at certain points, the path completely blended with the surrounding grassland. Shapes of half-stumbled walls and buildings began to appear as they approached what remained of what must have once been a tall sturdy gate.

“What is this place?” Melelna asked as she slowed her horse’s pace, observing her surroundings.

“Summerhall,” Rhaegar told her with a flicker of emotion in his voice. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

There didn’t seem to be a single building in sight that still had the whole of its roof or walls, the destructive touch of a great fire obvious in the darkened ruins of what remained.

Rhaegar led them to what must’ve once been the Holdfast, its huge dome scattered on the broken floors below. Since the building had no door, they led their horses right inside and secured their reins around some poles that appeared to have belonged to the gallery of the hall.

He only took a blanket from one of the saddle-bags and smiled at her before gently taking hold of her hand, leading her towards the middle of the enormous room. “The roof is completely broken over there,” he explained. “No danger of anything falling on our heads.”

He unfolded the blanket where the ground seemed most smooth and laid on it with one arm extended in invitation. Melelna lowered herself right next to him and used said arm as a pillow. She suspected there was a personal story associated with this place, both because of his gesture to show it to her and the emotion that clouded his eyes since it came into view.

“I was born here…the day it burned,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the clear starry sky above. “I used to come often. Don’t know the reason, if I’m being honest. You would think that considering how much tragedy rained upon my house in this very hall, I should hate it. And yet, every so often I would find myself laying here as we are.”

Melelna shifted closer to him. “It belongs to your family?”

“Yes. The heir to the throne is named Prince of Dragonstone but a younger son could be named Prince of Summerhall and take this castle as his seat.”

She hesitated. “What happened?”

Rhaegar toyed with a lock of her hair. “A fire,” he said simply. “The King at the time and his heir along with some other relatives perished in it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Melelna whispered. “It must’ve been awful for your family.”

“It was a long time ago, love. I didn’t bring you here to ruin your mood. It’s still fascinating though, isn’t it? This place?”

The princess smiled, glancing around. “It is beautiful–an ominous sort of beauty, but beautiful nonetheless.”

“Do you have a place like this? Somewhere that makes you feel at peace. In Volantis, maybe?”

His question came from a good place, Melelna knew. Yet, it still made her stiffen for a moment. “No, I’m afraid not. In Lys there was a beach that I was really fond of visiting late at night when the tide was out. I could find all sorts of seashells before the water came back in.”

Rhaegar pushed himself up on one elbow, searching her eyes. “You never talk about Volantis,” he observed.

She tried to think for something to say but came up blank, only returning her gaze to sky above.

Rhaegar touched a finger to her chin, forcing her eyes back to him. “Melelna, the man who killed the boy you were betrothed to…” He audibly swallowed. “He is in Volantis, isn’t he? Did he ever…did he ever hurt you?”

Nyessos did hurt her, multiple times, but not in the way Rhaegar was suggesting. _Only thanks to Amir._ “No, he didn’t hurt me. Can we not talk about that? Please.”

“I need you to trust me. I want to know what happened to you–to know who is responsible for those shadows in your eyes every time Volantis comes up.”

Melelna didn’t want to sound harsh but she truly didn’t think that his words were fair. “Like you trust me with whatever has been messing with your head ever since we came back to the city?” she asked in return.

Rhaegar tightly shut his eyes, as if in pain, then sat up and pulled her on his lap. “I trust you, my love. I swear, I do. It hurts me more than you know to keep things from you but please believe me when I tell you that this is for your own good. We will talk about everything. I assure you, we will. But not tonight.”

She let out a deep sigh. “Not tonight,” she repeated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like Marvel, check out my Loki fanfic :)


	16. Chapter XV | "Together."

**_Melelna_ **

The ride back from Summerhall felt much shorter than the one which brought them there. Perhaps it was because this time the sun was shining, instead of that night’s almost total darkness. It was when the morning rays first made their appearance that Melelna fully comprehended the damage that has been done to this place. There was no ever fixing this, she’d reckoned. Completely bring it down and rebuild perhaps, but not repairing what remained.

After that first night when they’d arrived, she and her husband had spent a full day listening to nothing but the sound of the wind and of their own voices. Not surprisingly, they’d also spent most of said day without their garments. Not that Rhaegar hadn’t woken her several times during the two nights they had spent here either with his tongue between her thighs or his shaft already half-buried inside her. Somehow, it felt different from their couplings back in the city. He felt more desperate, needier. She knew that he wanted to make the most of their time out here, and in that she was in complete agreement with him, but she sensed something else underneath it all. A darker emotion flickering in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place but she could swear had a faint hint of fear.  

Well, whatever it was that was affecting him, it was gone now. The strange spark leaving his eyes as soon as they walked through the underground gate leading back to the castle. _We depart tomorrow_ , she thought. Away from the horrors of this city–from Aerys. And hopefully from what has her husband sitting by his desk for hours and only his musings for company.

During their short stay in what remained of the Targaryen residence however, Melelna also had a realization moment.

“What did you dream of before I seduced you into marrying me?” Rhaegar had smugly asked as he held her naked in his arms under the morning sky. She could only blink in response to his question, since Melelna herself in that second had realized that she never dared dream of much–the plans for her future already made long before she could understand the words on the papers her father had signed. And even her tiny hopes of happiness within her marriage with Lysandro were crushed when she realized that Nyessos would never let that be for so long as he was close. The only thing the girl she was before wanted was to be away from her oldest brother…but she couldn’t tell her husband that.

“I wanted…a tall knight, with intelligent mesmerizing eyes, soft silver hair–oh, did I mentioned he was a prince?” she had teased.

Rhaegar had laughed at her response before pulling her closer against his chest. “Flattering as that is, love, I want the truth.”

She had had no choice but to admit to not having any real dreams to him then. She saw the calculation in his gaze as he attempted to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was her past to him. They had agreed not talk about Lysandro’s death until Rhaegar was also ready to talk about things he’s been keeping from her, but she could see that he suspected her lack of ambitions for the future and the murder of her betrothed were connected–which, of course, was a correct assumption. She wondered when that talk would come–wondered how much she dared tell him.

Melelna was to visit the Queen this last afternoon, to have tea and sweet lysene biscuits. Thus why she was currently walking towards Rhaella’s solar, Jaime on her heel. Some of the ladies who have remained in the city were to join as well; Melelna’s ladies-in-waiting already there.

Her spine slightly stiffened as soon as Prince Lewyn pushed the door open for them, however. It didn’t surprise her to see lady Cersei seated by the Queen’s left, but it was difficult to remember her manners and keep the forced smile on her face when the Lannister woman was around.

She was mooning over Rhaegar, Melelna had gotten that signal loud and clear at Harrenhal. Vexing as it was, she could live with that knowledge. But the woman was relentless. The longing that reflected in her eyes every time she had a chance to lay them on Melelna’s husband was impossible to ignore. Rhaegar himself was either oblivious to her subtle advancements or pretended not to notice. For that much Melelna was thankful. It meant that she could ignore her right along with him. But it was so very hard not to shove something sharp and heavy–and very possibly spiked–in her sweet, heart-shaped face. _She’s Jaime’s sister_ , the princess reminded herself. She liked her white shield. He’d become somewhat of a younger brother to her. She didn’t want him to start a quarrel between him and his twin on her behalf, so Melelna did the best she could to conceal her discomfort every time lady Cersei did something which had the princess inwardly wishing to gouge her cat-like eyes out.

“Oh, you are here, sweetling,” Rhaella said and stood as soon as she noticed Melelna approaching.

Melelna’s mood softened and she opened her mouth to speak but a screeching Viserys began to run towards her from the other side of the room, excitedly throwing his small arms around her hips as soon as he reached her.

After the initial shock had passed, Melelna couldn’t help but bust out laughing. “I’m happy to see you too, your grace,” she told the royal child who was still clutched around her legs.

“ _Viserys_!” his mother scolded. “Release the princess so she can walk, child.” Rhaella shook her head. “I’m sorry, Melelna. He’s been very energetic since being told that he was to see you today.”

Melelna’s lips separated into a genuine smile. “No need to apologize, your grace. I’ve been looking forward to seeing your little prince too.” She offered her hand to Viserys, who eagerly grasped it before they both strode to the table.

Melelna took the unoccupied seat between Rhaella and Ashara. Unsurprisingly, Viserys climbed on the princess’s lap as soon as she had settled on her chair.

“Must you go?” the silver-haired child asked, pouting.

“I’m afraid so,” Melelna told him. “But we will see each other again. Perhaps next time we meet, you’ll already be a squire to a great knight.” Truthfully, the princess had no idea about when would be the next time the two of them met. The plan for now was for them to attend the wedding at Riverrun and then go straight to Dragonstone. The ship which brought her to Westeros was to leave for the island-fortress with the better part of the royal couple’s personal possessions early with the morning tide.

 “Or I will already be knight,” Viserys said fervently, eyes shining with enthusiasm. Afterwards, the child proceeded to pretend to slay an invisible foe, swinging his imaginary sword fiercely in all directions.

“Child.” His mother gave a tired sigh. “You are going to accidentally hit the princess.”

Melelna distracted the little prince with the cinnamon-smelling biscuits that were already set on the table. Viserys was not an easy child, she could tell that much. But she enjoyed the little time she got with him whenever Aerys was on one of his better days and allowed visitors with his youngest son. That time appeared to be at end however since Prince Lewyn knocked on the door before opening it and entering with an apologetic expression.

Rhaella bestowed him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes before turning to her guests. “Beg your pardon, my ladies. I shall return shortly.” She stood and beckoned Viserys to follow her as she turned for the door.

The little prince gave Melelna a kiss on the cheek before reluctantly climbing off her lap. “I’ll miss you,” he said and her heart broke.

“I’ll miss you too, my sweet prince,” Melena replied and kissed his brow. “Your mother is waiting.”

Unfortunately, the short departure of Rhaella meant that Melelna had to finally acknowledge the Lannister woman since the seat between them was now empty.

“Your wedding was marvellous.” Lady Cersei broke the silence after the Queen had disappeared out the door. “I’m sure the festivities supressed those of your first one.”

Melelna glanced at her, confused. “My first one?”

“I was under the impression that you were married once before.”

Jaime was standing guard by the door but probably within earshot because Melelna caught the uncomfortable glare he momentarily sent his sister’s way.

“I was not married before, my lady,” Melelna told her with as much grace she could master. “I was betrothed once but that was a long time ago.” Was it, though? Less than three years ago she was gazing up at the night sky of Volantis with Lysandro, planning the life they would have together. Somehow it felt as if decades have passed since then instead.

“I beg your pardon, princess,” the Lannister lady said with an apologetic smile that almost looked sincere. “I must have misunderstood–or the maid who told me had it wrong herself.”

 “Lady Cersei,” Kathlyn cut in. “I hear you are coming with us to Riverrun.”

“Yes,” Cersei confirmed, sparing the dornish woman a short glance. “I was invited to lady Catelyn’s wedding.” _Unlike you, who is only tagging along_ , her eyes silently added.

“Oh, yes. So many weddings,” Ashara said with a smile that didn’t look friendly. “Isn’t it wonderful?” The question was directed at Cersei, who failed to conceal the distain in her gaze as soon as it found Ashara.

“Of course,” the Lannister woman said curtly before supposedly dismissing Melelna’s two dornish ladies-in-waiting by diverting her attention back to the princess. Whatever she was about to say was caught in her throat when the door groaned however, announcing Queen Rhaella’s return.

Melelna was glad that she didn’t have to be in such close proximity to this particular lady for much longer. Jaime’s twin or not, she was nothing like him. And when they leave her behind them after Riverrun, the princess will be even happier. 

**…**

 

The road to Riverrun is not long but considering the size of their party and pace, it would take them almost a fortnight to reach it. The weather was thankfully favourable, all blue skies and light breezes that smelled of wildflowers and spring. Melelna found herself thinking that she wouldn’t mind if their trip lasted longer. Perhaps she would even prefer it. _Midnight_ appeared to be enjoying herself as well.

After a few days of traveling by day and making camp by night, their party came across an old inn, north of Castle Darry. Since it was beyond Harrenhal, the whole area was new to the princess and she took her time observing the surrounding woods and nearby river before conceding her mount to a young stable boy.

A plump, smiling woman received them inside, looking especially pleased to have royal guests. She led them through the vast common hall of the inn and up the stairs to their room, which she assured them was the most comfortable in the inn.

Melelna sat down on the featherbed and stretched. She’d missed the softness beneath her back at night if she was being totally honest.

“We are expected downstairs for dinner, but you could get a couple of hours of sleep until then,” Rhaegar offered before following her to the bed and kicking off his boots.

“Are you joining me?” Melelna asked.

“For a little bit, but I would like a bath to wash off the road first.”

“I would welcome a bath as well,” Melelna decided.

They ended up sharing a large copper tub, the princess settled in between Rhaegar’s legs, her back to his chest.

“Why didn’t you let them pack them with the rest of our things?” she heard him murmur behind her as his fingers kneaded her shoulders.

Melelna glanced at him and found Rhaegar’s eyes on the chest with her dragon eggs, on a short table by her side of the bed. “I’m not sure,” she told him honestly. “I don’t want to part with them.”

He gave her a curious look. “Do you know how much those eggs could sell for? Someone could steal them from you if you constantly have them on display.”

She turned her whole body to face him, her feelings about that scenario evident on her face. “I would like to see them try,” she all but growled. “No one is taking them from me.”

Rhaegar chuckled. “No one is taking them from you, my beautiful she-dragon,” he agreed. “And if someone does, I’ll turn over every rock in the kingdoms until I find them.” He shifted her on his lap so she was straddling him. “You can sheathe your claws now,” he teased.

Melelna playfully ran her nails down his chest, pressing hard enough so her path left a temporary red line on his skin. “I don’t think so,” she said as she watched his eyes darken.

“We are going to be late,” Rhaegar warned.

Melelna left a trail of small kisses along the place she had scratched. She could hear her husband’s breathing getting quicker, his chest moving under her lips.

Rhaegar let out a low groan but then sighed as he tipped Melelna’s chin, finding her gaze. “As much I would like for you to continue doing exactly what you are doing, I would like to use our time before dinner to talk.”

She frowned. “To talk? In the bath?”

Rhaegar lightly chuckled. “I know, most unusual. But I’ve been meaning to drop this barrier between us for some time now. There is something about the comfort of being inside the hot water with you, makes it easier to find the words.”

She fully faced him, expression sober. Was he finally going to trust her with his secrets? Would she also have to confess her own afterwards? A slight tremor ran through her at the thought. _No,_ she encouraged herself. _Trust goes both ways._ “Very well.” She settled on the other side of the tub, facing him, the water concealing them both up to their chests.

“You saw my father,” he began. “That cannot continue, don’t you agree?”

Melelna gave a small nod but whispered, “Isn’t it treason to say that?”

Rhaegar’s lips curved into a smile. “The septa told you that?”

“She said that any ill talk of the King or the royal family is to be considered treason.”

“Which brings me to the reason I have waited for so long before talking with you. As you have seen with your own two eyes, there are ways around and under the Red Keep, unseen to most. I couldn’t risk someone overhearing you talking of what I’m about to tell you. I know you that would never willingly betray me, my love. But if by some mistake any of this fell to the wrong ears, not only the planning of months and the lives of those involved would be jeopardized, you...yourself...I wouldn’t be in a position to protect you from him.” He searched her face waiting for a response.

Melelna recalled the day Lord Varys had complimented her on her choice of gift for the Queen. She shivered at the realization that someone might have been watching them without their knowledge. “I understand,” she managed. “But are you telling me now?”

“Yes, I secured this whole wing, no one is listening in.” He gave a small pause, appearing to consider his next words. “When we go to Riverrun, things are going to change. I had hoped that my father could be contained but I cannot keep the council into check any longer, they fear him too much–and with good reason. You saw what happened to our last Master of Laws.”

She nodded. “What’s going to happen in Riverrun?”

“A meeting,” he said vaguely. “We’ll get to that. Let’s go back to the matter of treason. I cannot openly oppose my father without risking execution. Not in the current state of mind he is.”

It was difficult for her to hear that a son feared that his own father might ask for his head. There was no scenario in which she could ever imagine her own father wishing her dead. She had a sudden urge to hug her husband and offer comfort but she wasn’t certain if he wanted that right now. “That must be difficult for you, my love,” was the only thing she managed to say.

A flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes, then they warmed as he smiled. “He wasn’t always like this.” His expression sobered. “But I can’t allow this to go on any longer. Everybody suffers because of him, smallfolk and nobles alike, and…”

“…your mother,” she whispered.

“Her most of all.”

“So how are you planning on not getting executed?” She loved him too much to risk losing him. She prayed that whatever his plan was, it worked. She saw the nobility of the act, admired his determination to put an end to the unnecessary brutality, but she’d rather have an alive husband than a dead hero.

“The only way is to call a council. Unite the Lords and force him to surrender the throne. He cannot defend it without allies. I would like to believe that it can be done without bloodshed if a large number of the High Lords come to an agreement but…that’s easier said than done. The lords are much harder to persuade than you would think, considering the circumstances. And my father…well, he is not likely to see reason. In Riverrun, I have to prepare them for the council.”

“Prepare them how?”

“I’ve already talked to some of them, those I could trust wouldn’t betray our conversations. In Harrenhal,” His eyes turned apologetic. “and during our wedding festivities.”

“That’s where you were disappearing?” She tried to conceal her relief from her voice but Rhaegar must’ve noticed.

“Why? What did you think?”

“Nothing,” she rushed to say. “I had no idea what you were doing.” That was the truth. “It’s just that, from all the things that could have been doing and intentionally keeping from me…”

He shifted in the water, finding her hand. “Did you think that I…that there was another woman?”

“No,” she denied. “I never thought that you have been unfaithful–I would have confronted you about it if I did. But…” she sighed. “Women want you, Rhaegar,” she explained. “Some of them are too bold about it, as if they have a right. I can’t help but wonder sometimes…”

“I have a feeling that you are talking about someone specific,” he said, not unkindly. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I assure you, I never encouraged her. Nor did ever touch her. Not before I met you and definitely not now.”

It didn’t surprise her that he knew that she was thinking of Cersei when she spoke. “I know,” she said truthfully. “I’m sure that if you had, the woman would have found a way to accidentally let it slip by now.”

“Forget about her. She is not important. What’s important is what’s going to happen in Riverrun. Some of the Lords I have already spoke to are going to be there. Others will hear what I have to say for the first time. I have to convince them to stand by me at the council. That means that the next few months…at the very least are going to be unstable.”

“What does that mean for us?” She asked wearily. She would support him in whichever way he asked. Her only fear was losing him.

“I’m not sure yet.” Rhaegar pulled her to his side of the tub, closing his arms around her. “But nothing shall ever happen to you, no matter how things go. I’ll make certain of it.”

 

 


	17. Chapter XVI | A boar?

**_Melelna_ **

They were to remain at the inn for three nights, so both people and animals can rest before they travelled west, following the river road to the Tully Castle. Melelna was eager to explore the surrounding forest and since Rhaegar had become especially protective of her since leaving the city–not wanting a repetition of what had happened in Harrenhal–Jaime and Elyse had to trail her under the dense trees and over shallow parts of the streams around the inn.

“Princess Melelna,” her Kingsguard cautioned behind her. “We are too far from the road. We should turn back.”

Melelna tugged _midnight’s_ reins, bringing her to halt. She turned the horse towards the river. “Let’s eat here first,” she suggested. “That tree by the water looks like such a lovely spot to have lunch.”

Jaime inclined his head but said, “As you wish, but we go no further. His Grace’s orders were quite specific.”

The princess saw the relief in Elyse’s ocean blue eyes as she dismounted and began opening her saddlebags, getting blankets and food out. Her maid had to learn how to ride a long time ago, since Melelna developed an interest in horses when she was very young, but she never grew fond of it. Thankfully, she didn’t make any complains for so long as the horse chosen for her is not a spirited one.

While her handmaid got their seating area ready, Jaime secured their horses before approaching Melelna with an unsure look in his eyes. “Princess,” he began. “I was hoping that you aren’t having second thoughts on the matter of fostering my brother.”

She looked at him curiously. “Because of your sister?”

He gave a small nod but did not speak.

“Rhaegar already talked with your father. Even if I wanted to take the offer back, it’s too late now. But to answer your question, Jaime…No, I’m not having second thoughts.” She didn’t feel comfortable telling him more. Regardless of how his twin behaved, Cersei would always be his sister first. Melelna knew that better than most. She doubted that she would ever find it in her heart to forgive Nyessos, but there was a time that he was simply her protective older brother. A brother she’d loved with all her heart. She’d told Vinar that the reason she never betrayed the identity of Lysandro’s murderer to their father was to protect Amir, and to a certain extent she was speaking the truth, but not the whole of it. Even after everything he’s done, she didn’t wish to see Nyessos harmed. She would never trust him ever again and she would rather be as far away from him as possible, but she couldn’t bring herself to truly wish him ill fortune.

“That’s good to hear,” Jaime said with an uncomfortable smile.

He didn’t bring the subject back up for the entirety of their meal. It was plain that the matter made him uncomfortable but Jaime seemed relieved that the offer to foster little Tyrion still stood.

When they returned to the inn’s stables, Melelna instantly noticed the loud cluster coming from the common room. She spotted Thoros of Myr standing by the ajar side door so after dismounting she approached the bald red priest. “What is all the noise about?” she asked. She could hear the sound of men talking, punctuated by loud bursts of laugher.

The man straightened when he heard her. “Some of the men that were on patrol last night claim to have come across an albino boar near the caves by the east side of the river, your grace. Now they are convinced that its lair must be inside those caves so the lords want to go after it.”

Melelna blinked. She didn’t know a single thing about boar hunting so she took a mental note to ask Rhaegar later when she saw him. “I see.” She smiled at him. “I should be returning to my room for a bath now, I’m afraid. After all that riding, I don’t smell all that different than my horse. Will you join our bench at supper?”

“It would be an honour, princess.” He gave a deep bow before pulling the door open for her.

The side entrance led her right by the staircase. She noticed Rhaegar sitting at a table with his cousin as she entered but with all the noise in the room, he didn’t see her as she climbed the stairs, Elyse close behind her. Melelna decided to have a long soak before interacting with anyone since she truly smelled only of dirt and horse.

Elyse was quick to get everything ready for her lady before Melelna dismissed her. She would have Ashara and Kathlyn for company and to assist with her clothing later so she saw no reason not to give the rest of the day off to her handmaid.

Rhaegar returned to their chambers just as Melelna climbed out of the tub and was wrapping herself in her robe. She immediately noticed the annoyance in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked wearily as she walked to him. She had been mentally preparing for the unavoidable conversation in which she would have to admit that it was her own brother who had ruined half her life, but judging from his current mood, that talk would have to wait.

He gave a sigh of resignation. “Bloody Robert,” he muttered and sat at one of the armchairs by the window, motioning her to do the same. “It appears that there is an albino boar in the woods.”

“So I've heard. What does your cousin have to do with it?” she asked after settling on the seat opposite him.

“He got everyone worked up as soon as the news reached him.” Rhaegar rubbed at his temples. “They want to go after it.”

He glanced at her, waiting for a response. Then he must’ve realized that her knowledge on the subject was limited because he added, “Boar hunts take days, but they believe that this one’s lair is going to be easy to find. I can’t refuse them, Melelna. Robert might be young, but he is still Lord of Storm’s End.”

Melelna grasped his meaning at once. “You believe that a boar hunt would help persuade them to take your side when you call the council?” she asked curiously.

“It may or may not. The point is, my cousin is a very loud man. I intend to use that to my advantage if I can. Silly as it sound to go after boars at such a time, it may serve to win some favour with the lords,” Rhaegar said, seeming thoughtful. “I agreed to a short hunt. If we can’t find it in three days, we’ll turn back and resume our journey.”

Melelna nodded but said, “I’ll miss you.”

Rhaegar smiled sadly. “I’ll miss you too, my love. Jaime is going to stay here with you but I would rather you didn’t explore too far from the road while I’m gone.”

“I won’t,” she promised solemnly. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.” He stood and unclasped a dagger from his belt before unsheathing it. It was almost as long as a short-sword but delicately thin, its grip looking to have been made for smaller hands. The handle was worked to present the head of a dragon, pale amethyst stones for eyes. “I found it forgotten in the armoury before we left.” He put it back inside the leather sheathe and offered it to her, hilt first. “It looks like it have been made for a woman. I want you to have it on you at all times. Can you do that for me, love?”

Melelna closed her fingers around the long neck of the elegantly wrought purple-eyed dragon and gave a hesitant nod. “I shall always keep it close,” she promised to her husband. She knew that it was likely only a precaution but she couldn’t help the abrupt shiver form running up her spine. She recalled Harrenhal–Cold hands pressing on her face, blocking any air of entering her lungs until they began to burn and she was certain that she was as good as dead. Would a dagger on her person have made a difference then? She was not certain. _I’ll never have to use it_ , she assured herself. _Jaime would never allow me to come to any harm._

**_Jaime_ **

Jaime followed the princess back inside the inn. He could tell that she wasn’t pleased to be separated from Rhaegar, but he was only able to tell because he’d been by her side for so long. She had told her husband goodbye with a smile and a sweet kiss but Jaime didn’t fail to notice the uncertainty in her eyes. Amir had gone with them as well, which he knew added to the princess’s uneasiness. Her bastard brother had never been on a hunt before and the princess wasn’t one for denying any of his requests, Jaime had come to realize.

 His own sister had been among the crowd of women that had gathered outside the stables to see the lords off to their hunt. Jaime had chanced a long glance at Cersei while she stood radiant and beautiful in her red gown under the morning sun. A part of him expected her to come to him and end this feud between them but she wouldn’t even meet his eye anymore, let alone grace him with words.

Their aunt Genna had also joined their party for Riverrun after remaining in the capital with her husband. The sharp woman didn’t fail to notice the coldness between Jaime and his sister, judging from the look in her eyes as she glanced between them as soon as everyone returned to the common hall. It was mostly the ladies and their maids left. Not surprisingly, lady Genna’s husband was one of the few highborn men who’d stayed behind.

Melelna took a seat at one of the long tables and most of the ladies followed suit, filling the benches as close to the princess as was appropriate of their station. Cersei made straight for the staircase which led to her room, not even looking the princess’s way.

Jaime watched as his aunt shook her head in disapproval when she noticed his sister’s disappearance. The older Lannister woman straightened her posture and walked towards the princess with long confident steps, her long golden mane falling gracefully over her shoulders. His father’s sister was a true Lannister of Casterly rock, a proud woman with much more wit that she let on, unlike her feeble Frey husband. Princess Melelna would become Queen someday and lady Genna was acutely aware of that fact. Thus why she went out of her way to socialize with the young volantene whenever the chance was presented. She appeared to urge Cersei to do the same, surely on their father’s behalf, but Jaime wouldn’t place too much faith in the probability of such a thing occurring anytime soon.  

He waited dutifully by the dark stone wall while the ladies laughed and chattered, but couldn’t help his eyes from finding Kathlyn every once in a while. He’d told her that they had to be careful now that there were so many prying eyes around, and the dornish woman had kept true to her word. She only talked to him when it was absolutely necessary and never threw her usual suggestive glances his way. He should be pleased that she has listened, and yet…

His train of thought was interrupted when Melelna rose from her seat and made kind apologies, claiming to be feeling unwell. She wasn’t in the mood to have company during her midday meal, it seemed–other than Kathlyn and Ashara who followed behind the princess as she made for her room.

Jaime spent the rest of the day outside her door, alongside Belio. Not having to look at Kathlyn didn’t help stray his thoughts. With all the men gone, Jaime reckoned it wouldn’t be hard to steal into her room during the dead of night. His shift ended at midnight. He would have to wake up before the sun came up tomorrow morn, to be sure, but he needn’t take long.

He was still considering it when the door was groaned open and both of Melelna’s ladies in waiting emerged, likely retreating to their own rooms for the night. Kathlyn must’ve seen a flicker of his thoughts in his stare because she arched a brow at him, accompanied by a slight twitch of her lips before she disappeared down the corridor, Ashara on her side.

“Pretty, that one. Isn’t she?” Belio said with a sly smile.

The volantene guard wasn’t what Jaime would consider a handsome man, and well into his thirties. Women were drawn to him all the same, however. He wondered if he has ever been with Kathlyn. _No, I’d rather not know_ , he decided. In truth, the young Kingsguard didn’t understand why he was so possessive of her. He enjoyed her well enough and found especially intense moments of pleasure between her legs but he wasn’t so foolish as to think that he loved her. He only ever loved one woman, even if she chose to shun him.

“If you say so,” Jaime agreed with the indifference that was expected by someone of his rank.

With most of the lords gone, the inn had grown noticeably quiet as the moon climbed higher on the clear sky. It must’ve been about an hour before Aren was to change him when he heard mumbled voices coming from downstairs.

“ _Oi, boy!_ ” He heard one of the guards posted near the staircase shout. “You can’t go that way.”

The young man making his way hastily down the corridor ignored the warning, making to bypass the Targaryen household guard. His efforts were cut short when the guard closed his grip around his thin arm.

“Ser Jaime,” the intruder pleaded as he was pulled back. “Please ser, I have to speak with you.”

Jaime gestured for the guard to release him. “Who are you?” the Lannister demanded. “And what could you possibly have to say to me?” He looked as old as Jaime, perhaps a year younger. His pale brown eyes were shadowed by fear and never left the floor as he stood before them.

“It’s…it’s y-your noble sis-sister, ser,” the man managed. “Lady Cersei, s-she’s been attacked.”

 


	18. Chapter XVII | Havoc

**_Jaime_ **

Jaime blinked at the stranger, at first not comprehending his words. Then he abruptly fisted his tunic with both hands and roughly pulled him up. “What did you say?”

He was a thin and fragile looking lad, and what he lacked in physical strength he definitely did not have in courage. The only response he gave Jaime was a terrified squeal, not making any move to fight back, only pleading with his wide eyes.

Belio alarmingly broke Jaime’s hold on the stranger and got between them.

The door opened and Melelna rushed out in her bedrobe, looking more than a little startled. “What’s the matter?” She glanced between the men in the hallway, settling on the petrified lad. “Who are you?”

He dropped to one knee, still trembling. “My name’s Hugo, your grace. I-I…”

The Targaryen household guard yanked him to his feet. “Did you say that lady Cersei was attacked?”

“Y-yes…” He appeared to have lost his words again and Jaime truly didn’t have the patience to wait for him to find his voice.

“What do you mean she was attacked?” Jaime growled. “Who attacked her? Where?”

When he failed to answer and Jaime looked more than ready to pounce on him, Melelna interjected. “Come inside my chamber, all of you,” she commanded.

The room was dim, the only light coming from a couple candles by the princess’s bed and a small brazier. When as they were all inside and she faced her maid. “Bring up a flagon of water, some wine too.”

Elyse rushed to obey her lady. As soon as she closed the door behind her, Melelna turned to Hugo. “Explain yourself,” she demanded.

“In the woods behind the stables,” he mumbled, gaze cast low. “S-she…the man took her.”

_“What man?”_ Jaime’s tone made the boy flinch back, as if he was struck.

“I-I don’t know, it was dark. H-he saw me as I r-run towards the inn. H-he, he s-said that if I send knights after h-him, he’ll kill her.”

Jaime’s first instinct was to turn for the door–to find his sister. But then he remembered where he was and looked at the princess.

She read the unspoken question in his eyes but didn’t seem eager to allow him to leave. “What if he makes good on his word Jaime, what if he kills her? I have no doubts about your ability to deal with one man, but for all we know there might be a score of them with him wherever he took your sister.”

“Did you see which way they went?” Belio asked Hugo.

“Towards the east part of the trident, ser. That’s all I saw. I-I rushed straight here. I’ll show you.”

Elyse returned with the flagons and the boy’s limbs stopped trembling after a few big gulps of wine.

“I have to go after her,” Jaime told the princess, pleading with his eyes. “One or a dozen of them, it makes no matter. I can’t just sit here.”

She shook her head. “Jaime–”

“ _Please_ ,” he insisted. “I’ll take of my armour off so not to be heard, and will not engage unless I’m sure it’s a battle I can win.”

Melelna looked torn but gave a slight nod. “Be careful, Jaime.”

“I will,” he promised and made quick work of removing his plate and cloak. “Come,” he ordered the lad who meekly trailed after him.

There was a chill in the air, gusts of wind occasionally rustling the leaves of the trees as Jaime hastened his steps, the boy struggling to keep up pace.

The longer he was out in the cold air, the more his head seem to clear, until he abruptly came to a halt and pushed the boy against a nearby tree. “Why did you come to me?” As the words left him, the oddity of the hour hit him as well, and the boy’s refusal to meet anyone’s eyes.

Hugo looked lost. “S-ser?”

“Why did you not go to the first guard you came upon? Why go out of your way to sneak inside the inn and find me?” Jaime rested his dagger against the other man’s neck. “I wouldn’t lie if I were you.”

 “I thought…ser, please, I only did what as I was told.”

_No, she wouldn’t do this._ _“Where is she?”_ Jaime growled.

The boy managed to raise a quivering hand to point. “That way,” he breathed. “There is a small cave by the stream.”

Jaime dragged him as he all but ran in that direction. He refused to come to any conclusion until he’d laid eyes on her–until he was certain she was not harmed.

He hesitated as he neared the tiny opening of the cave. What if Hugo was lying? What if he was in agreement with his sister’s abductor?

But his doubts died as Cersei emerged, a small torch in hand. She was dressed in a simple gown and her golden hair was concealed under a hood but she was unharmed. He should be pleased that no one had hurt her, but all he felt was burning-hot rage.

“What did she promise you?” he demanded of Hugo.

The young man glanced at Cersei, looking for support. His sister slowly walked to them. “Gold,” she said in an indifferent tone. “Which he shall have as soon as your release him.”

“Release him?” Jaime gave a bitter laugh before he pinned Hugo with his gaze. “Are you an utter fool? You would risk your life by lying to the princess for a handful of coins?”

There was a flicker in his eyes, shame and something else that Jaime couldn’t quite determine. “It wasn’t just gold, was it?”

Hugo remained silent so Jaime brought his dagger back to his throat. “Tell me,” he shouted, clouded by his anger.

Cersei tried to intervene, gently tugging on Jaime’s arm but he wouldn’t budge. “It was just gold, Jaime. Let him go,” she pleaded with him.

“Please,” Hugo begged, his eyes wet with tears. “I did as you asked, I brought him here. I don’t want the gold or the kiss, just let me go. _Please_.”

Jaime’s hand twitched and suddenly his skin was warm and slick with Hugo’s blood. The man brought his hands up to his neck as his legs gave out from under him and opened his mouth to scream, but the only noise that came from it was the sound of him choking on his own blood.

Soon after, there was only quiet.

“You killed him.” Cersei gasped.

Jaime’s head began to throb. He didn’t know what his sister saw in his face when he turned to her but whatever it was, she took a step back. _“What.did.you.do?”_

“Jaime,” she said carefully. “You need to calm down.”

“What I need is to know what atrocity you cooked up this time!”

“You refused to help me!” she shouted back at him. “You chose her. You even crowned her your queen of love and beauty. Tell me brother, did you look forward to the days you were to spend alone with her now that Rhaegar is gone?”

Jaime ignored her false accusations and seized his sister by the shoulders with both hands, bloody dagger still clutched in one of them. _“What the fuck did you do, Cersei?”_

She tried to wrench away from his hold but he wouldn’t let her. _“I got rid of an inconvenience!”_ she answered angrily. _“Get your hands off me!”_

Jaime roughly pushed her away from him and Cersei stumbled, falling hard to the earth. He would deal with his sister later, he had bigger problems now. He looked at where Hugo’s body was laying, unmoving. “He was the one who abducted you. He left you tied to a tree before coming to find me. Is that clear?”

For the first time, he saw fear in his sister’s eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

Jaime left her there and took off running towards the inn. Perhaps there was still time. Hugo meant to hold him away from the princess for a while so he might be lucky enough to return to the her side before…In that moment he realized that he didn’t even know what Cersei had planned. _It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I’ll put a stop to it._

His hopes withered however as he neared the inn. He could only watch as angry flames licked up at the sky from the burned windows, the top floor appearing to have been completely swallowed by the blaze.

**_Rhaegar_ **

They’ve been trying to track the damn animal for the whole day but so far there were no signs of the boar, nor did the dogs seem to find any traces for its scent. He was relieved when they finally made camp.

Rhaegar judged that from the men surrounding him, Lord Jon Arryn was the one he should focus his attention on. During the lord’s stay in King’s Landing, it was obvious that the older man’s relationship with Robert was very alike to that of father and son. His cousin made it clear in Harrenhal that in theory, he supported Rhaegar’s cause, but he listened to Lord Jon’s advice. And from what the prince had understood, lord Jon’s opinion would matter to the Lord of Winterfell as well. Thankfully, the Warden of the East appeared to be on his side for so long it’s a council Rhaegar means to call, and not a rebellion. The Lord of the Eyrie had made that very clear. He was an honourable man too, so the prince was confident that he wouldn’t lose his support so easily now that he’d pledged it.

Most men were tired so they retreated to their sleeping tents, Rhaegar doing the same. He wished for some dreamless sleep. In the days after their departure from the capital, he found himself plagued by fervent dreams, but as soon as he woke sweating and panting, the prince always forgot them. It was vexing him to no end. The dreams of the members of his family were seldom just dreams.

He didn’t know how long he’d slept when he was abruptly shaken awake by a strong hand. It was dawn, judging from the pink colour of the sky. “What is it?” he asked Arthur when he spotted him standing over him. Rhaegar then noticed the disquiet in the kingsguard’s purple gaze and alarmingly sat up. “What’s happened?”

“A rider came. There seems to be some problem at the inn. A fire, he says, but he doesn’t know much. He was ordered to send word before the situation was clear,” Arthur said calmly, so not to spook him.

It was no use. “ _Melelna_ ,” Rhaegar said immediately. “Is she alright?”  

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “I asked him but he doesn’t know if anyone was hurt. Jaime is with her, Rhaegar. The boy has good instincts.”

Rhaegar pushed to his feet and pulled on his overtunic, then his boots. “We leave now. The rest can follow after they’ve gathered everything, but _we leave now_.”

Arthur nodded. “I’ll bring the horses.”

But no sooner than his sworn shield had left, Melelna’s brother appeared. “What’s the matter?” Vinar asked, glancing around at the men hastily gathering their things.

Rhaegar repeated what his Kingsguard had told him and like him, Vinar’s first concern was for his sister. “I’m coming with you,” the volantene insisted, and soon Amir had heard as well, both of Melelna’s brothers going off to bring their horses.

The prince tried to keep his mind blank as they rode towards the inn, but his worry was getting the better of him. In that moment he instinctively glanced up at the morning sky and what he saw almost made him lose the seat on his mare.

There was a comet, bright red with an enormous tail. It appeared to be slashing the sky in half, its glow dominant over that of the still-faint shine of the rising sun. _Where did that come from?_ Rhaegar thought with wonder.

But soon his attention shifted from the sky, the comet forgotten as he gazed upon the hell that had broken loose all around the blazing inn.

 


	19. Chapter XVIII | Smoking Morning

**_Jaime_ **

_Does she really have no notion of the storm that her actions are bound to bring upon us?_ Jaime wondered as he pulled his sister along, hastily making his way back to the inn. It was obvious that for so long as the fire was raging as angrily as it did when he left, there was nothing he could do but wait.

He tried not think of the princess but it was a battle with his mind he could not win. _She asked me to stay and I refused, running to Cersei’s rescue like the good little puppet I am,_ he mused, angry and ashamed both. He was furious that his twin had used him thus. And for what? _A handsome prince and a shining crown._ The thought left hollow feeling in the young knight’s chest.

He glanced at his sister. She had not exchanged a word with him since they left the cave. Cersei still seemed not to understand what she had done, swearing that her plan did not involve fires of any kind. Once again, she’d missed his point. “Are you truly that blind?” he had snapped at her before he’d hauled her outside. “If she dies, I’m done for. Can you honestly not see how much he adores her? He named me her sworn shield, Cersei! _Her sworn shield!_ ” Not even that had made her comprehend what awaited him when Rhaegar appeared, his sister only shaking her head in denial and calling him absurd.  

There were faint pink lines on her arms, from where her skin had dragged across the hard floor of the cave when he’d pushed her. The sight of them made his heart clench with regret but then he remembered that he was likely to get a lot more than a few scrapes because of what she’s done, his remorse instantly evaporating.

Cersei’s gaze was fixed upwards as he guided her in a faster pace than she looked comfortable with. The monstrous flaming comet had not been up there when Jaime had entered the cave to get his sister but it was the first thing they both had noticed when they exited. Under different circumstances he might have been gazing up at sky in awe too, but his priority in that moment was figuring out how to keep his fool of a twin alive.

**_Rhaegar_ **

Rhaegar brought his horse to a halt and observed the scene unfolding beyond. Half of the inn seemed to be on fire, the flames not looking like they would get tamed anytime soon. And it wasn’t for lack of effort. Every man in sight along with a few women looked to be trying to help in some way, carrying buckets from the river either on their person or bringing barrels with small carriages.

“There,” came Arthur’s voice from next to him.

His Kingsguard was pointing north, by the small path that led to the river bank.

There was a crowd of women among with a few men standing a safe distance away from the inferno. His throat tightened when he failed to identify his wife amongst them. He rode that way nevertheless when he spotted Arthur’s sister being comforted by Melelna’s septa.

“Lady Ashara,” he called as he dismounted.

Everyone turned his way, dropping to one knee as it was expected when coming across one of the blood royal.

Rhaegar lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture. “There is no need for that. Tell me what has happened.”

Lady Ashara stepped forward. “We are not certain, your grace.” She paused and found his eyes, a horrified expression in her own. “She never came out,” she said so quietly, the prince almost missed it.

Vinar spoke before Rhaegar could. “My sister’s in there?” His terror was evident in his tone. As soon as Ashara confirmed it with a weak nod, he broke off running towards the inn.

Amir went after his half-brother; to help him or too stop him, Rhaegar didn’t know.

He willed his nerves to calm so he can think clearly, facing the inferno. _The inn is made of stone,_ he tried to reassure himself _. She’s not dead until I lay eyes upon her body._ He knew that even if she somehow escaped coming into contact with the fire, stone or not, no one had the right to survive the scorching temperature inside. But he had to hold on to hope, as feeble as it may be.

“Show me the entrances to the inn. Starting with the one closest to the stone staircase that leads up to our rooms,” he commanded the score of Targaryen household guards that had raced to his side when they saw him. He would question them for details of how all of these started later. Now, his priority was to find Melelna. If she was still alive, the probability of her maintaining that status could very well depend on how quickly they can get her out.

Unfortunately the fire seemed to be at its wildest on their side of the building, both levels completely embraced by spitting flames. The door was completely destroyed but you’d have to walk through what looked like a wall of shifting oranges and yellows if you wanted to step inside.

Rhaegar didn’t know where Vinar had come from but suddenly he was in front of him, looking at the entrance and cursing loudly in High Valyrian. When he made a move to approach it, Amir alarmingly pulled him back. “Have you gone mad? We still didn’t check all the doors.”

“It doesn’t matter what door we use,” Vinar said, sounding equality desperate and frustrated. “Look inside. The area around the staircase is surrounded by flames. We have to go through there to get to my sister, no matter which door we take.”

To the prince’s horror, Vinar’s observation was correct. There was only that one way up to their rooms. _Panic will get you nothing,_ he repeated over and over in his head as he commanded everyone to prioritize taming the fire on this side of the building. It was becoming incredibly difficult for him not wear his worry on his face as the time passed and the fire did not seem to grow any smaller. It was as if the flames had a mind of their own, not willing to retreat regardless of his men’s great efforts.

His head was in such a tangle, he couldn’t say if minutes or hours had passed, but eventually he noticed that most of the men that were on the hunt with them had returned. He spotted Thoros of Myr gazing up at the sky with wonder in his eyes. _The comet,_ Rhaegar remembered. His own gaze had been fixed on the inn, impatiently waiting for the fire to decline enough for them to risk entrance.

The sound of leaves and twigs crunching came from behind him and Rhaegar turned to see Jaime approaching with lady Cersei, one hand curled around his sister’s wrist. With all the chaos around him, he had forgotten about Jaime. Or perhaps he’d subconsciously assumed that the young knight was also trapped inside the blaze along with the princess he’d sworn to protect with his own life.

“Jaime.” Rhaegar guarded his tone. “Do you know what’s happened?” No one seemed to understand exactly what took place. Most ladies panicked and rushed outside along with their maids and guards as soon as the fire started to spread; and it seems that it had, in fact, started from their section of the building. In the confusion, no one had noticed that the princess did not come out until the flames had gotten too large for anyone to try and go inside.

“I do, Your Grace,” Jaime replied with a hint of regret in his tone. “I was tricked into leaving the princess’s side. This is my fault and I intent–”

_“No,”_ lady Cersei broke in. “My brother saved me. A man attacked me, you grace. It was so horrible.” Her eyes filled with tears, glistening green. “Jaime only meant to protect me.”

Rhaegar couldn’t deal with this now–not when Melelna was still in there. Only her brothers seem to also still believe that by some miracle she was still alive. No one had dared to vocally suggest otherwise but he could see the pity in their eyes.

“My lady,” he told the Lannister woman as politely as he could manage. “You are in a bad shape. Let someone see to those scrapes on your arm. I need to speak with your brother.”

She slightly flinched at his words but did as she was bid.

“Tricked how?” he asked Jaime when she was gone.

“A man took my sister and later returned telling us that she has been attacked. I followed him, not knowing that it was him who did the attacking. He tried to take me unaware and stab me when I wasn’t looking but I blocked him and buried my dagger in his throat. He’d gagged Cersei and left her tied to a nearby tree but I managed to hear her muffled screams. By the time I raced back…”

Rhaegar could hear the remorse and shame in his tone and believed that it was sincere, but he didn’t care. “You were supposed to keep her safe!” he snapped at him, causing a few heads to turn their way.

“Your grace,” Arthur warned quietly. “Now it’s not the time.”

“Where the fuck were you?” growled Vinar who did not seem to have noticed Jaime until he heard Rhaegar shout.

Jaime did not reply, only looked at the ground.

The Volantene wouldn’t accept silence for an answer. “Why is my sister in there, when _you_ are out here?” he went on as he approached.

_“For all his playfulness and easy jokes, Vinar has a really bad temper,”_ his wife had told him one day as they rode. Rhaegar couldn’t imagine Melelna’s brother as anything other than the friendly impish man-child that he always appeared to be, but he could very much see what she had meant now.

“Vinar, stop,” Amir called to his brother. “Look, the fire’s retreating.”

Everyone turned to the inn at his words and to Rhaegar’s relief, he was right. The flames looked noticeably smaller than they had been only minutes before. He instinctively took a step towards the destroyed door.

“You are not going in there,” Arthur told him, pulling him back.  “It’s still not safe.”

“The longer we wait, the more likely that she…” he refused to acknowledge the possibility that she was dead out loud.

“I’ll go,” said Jaime, determined. The young Kingsguard didn’t wait for permission, dashing for the inn.

Arthur called after him but Jaime didn’t even glance back at his sworn brother. Amir and Vinar soon followed, then Arthur, but not before giving Rhaegar another warning to wait outside.

It was torture to helplessly wait, forcing his expression to remain unreadable as he pinned his gaze on the entrance. But he was the Crown Prince and every eye was fixed on him, he knew. He’s been trained on how to behave publicly since he was old enough to speak, but Rhaegar had a feeling that should one of his knights come out with Melelna’s lifeless body in his arms…three lifetimes of septons and maesters flapping their tongues at him about what’s proper and what’s not wouldn’t have been enough to keep him from desperately falling on his knees; uncaring of who is watching.

The fire looked to be well under control now, but none of the men who’d entered had come out. Just as he decided that he was sick of waiting and made to approach, Arthur appeared through the opening that once had been a door.

His friend’s usually clear and reassuring eyes were as wide as Rhaegar had ever seen. “You need to see this,” Arthur said quietly when he reached him.

“Is she…?” Rhaegar asked, terrified.

“Come inside,” his kingsguard insisted, not answering his question. “Alone.”

The prince did as he was told, not understanding.

The walls were blackened and most of the furniture was reduced to smoking ashes. Some of the beams had fallen, and parts of the ceiling had also tumbled to the floor, leaving holes and large piles of stone and burned wood all over the place. He could tell that the men had to move a lot of it around to clear the way up the stone staircase, which for the most part seemed to have only suffered a change in colour. There was a scorched body halfway up the steps and two more in the corridor, one of his own household guards and two of Melelna’s, judging from the remnants of their armour. The damage in second floor was even worse and it seemed to Rhaegar that the closer he got to their room, the more distraction the fire had left behind.

He reluctantly walked through the door and found Jaime and Melelna’s both brothers all standing completely still and staring at something beyond. He noticed two unrecognizably burned corpses in the room, his heart skipping a beat at the sight.

“It’s not her,” Arthur told him reassuringly. “There.” He lifted his chin towards the other men but their bodies were blocking the view, Rhaegar not being able to see beyond them.

“ _Hāedar_ ,” Vinar murmured and made a move to walk forward.

His good-brother’s movement was cut short however, the man instantly flinching back after what had sounded like a very aggressive hiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hāedar = little sister in High Valyrian.


	20. Chapter XIX| Leap of Faith

**_Rhaegar_ **

Rhaegar blinked.

_Impossible._

He blinked again. The image in front of him did not change. There she was, laying unmoving on the floor in front of him, naked as the day she was born, her pale skin darkened by ash. The three newly hatched dragons were protectively covering her body, their reptilian eyes darting wearily between the men in the room. Unbidden, came the memory of the last drawing in his wife’s sketchbook and Rhaegar couldn’t help but recall that the colours of the fully grown dragons she had drawn matched those of the hatchlings before him.

Right then however, he had a bigger concern nagging at all his senses. Melelna was alarmingly still and when the azure dragon shifted, he noticed red-brown smudges of blood on her torso.

He instinctively reached for her but instantly had to jerk his arms back; the welcome he received from the crimson infant dragon being no warmer than the one it had given to Vinar before him. The other two seemed more docile, their eyes watchful as they studied him but making no move to attack. The red one was a whole different story; hissing and spreading his little wings to appear bigger. Rhaegar was thankful dragons did not spit fire right out of the egg–small chance that the tempered one would not burn them all before it let anyone near.

They were no bigger than cats with their wings faulted, but the prince judged that they could leave a nasty scar with their short but sharp teeth and claws. It made no matter, he had to get to her.

Her crouched as close as he dared and focused on the creature’s golden eyes. “You don’t have to protect her from me.” The dragon could not understand words but he hoped that the gentleness in his tone would help calm it.

Instead, it hissed at him and snapped its small jaw warningly in his direction.

Rhaegar turned to Arthur. “Do we have a maester with us?” He tried to remember but his mind didn’t seem able to think past what he was seeing.

“Lord Arryn sent word to Darry,” his Kingsguard informed him. “Their maester must be here by now.”

“Find a basket, or a wooden box. Anything that can comfortably hold all three of the dragons.” Rhaegar doubted that the maester would dare go anywhere near his wife while the crimson hatchling standing guard above her. He was not eager for word to spread about them, either.

“Take a few steps back,” he ordered the rest of the men. All of them crowding over Melelna, only served to anger the uneasy dragon even further.

Hesitantly, they did as he bid and Rhaegar tried again. “You need to let us see to her wounds.” He continued to talk to it, carefully moving closer as he did.

When he was finally within reaching distance, he touched his fingers gently on Melelna’s arm, testing for a reaction. The creature’s deep yellow eyes followed the movement, then found Rhaegar’s indigo ones. Their gazes remained locked for an uncomfortably long moment, then the hatchling reluctantly climbed off Melelna’s hip, the other two following its example.

The prince didn’t lose time, quickly brushing his wife’s silver strands away from her torso to check for injuries. He was relieved to see her chest slightly rising and falling with her small breaths, indicating that she was alive. When he noticed caked blood in her hair however, he stiffened.

Rhaegar shifted his position and carefully lifted her head, turning it to the side as he lay it on his thigh. There was a wound on her scalp close to her ear, looking to have been the result of a hard fall if he were any judge.

He was vaguely aware of Arthur coming back inside the room, a large woven basket in his hands. “The maester awaits in a tent outside.”

“I’ll carry her out,” Rhaegar told him. “Amir and Vinar should come with me while you and Jaime gather _them_. Once you contain them, make certain that _no one_ enters this room.” In truth, the prince didn’t really think about the dragons yet. Not about what their coming into this world meant, nor about what would come next. Besides, the person who probably held those answers was unresponsive in his arms. When he saw the hesitation in the Kingsguards’ eyes, he added, “I doubt their teeth can cut through steel armour yet, so try not to hurt them.”

Arthur nodded. “I’ve posted guards outside and cleared the area around the inn.”

_At least one of us has a clear enough mind to think,_ Rhaegar mused as he unfastened his cloak and draped it over Melelna before gathering her body in his arms.

The dragons didn’t seem pleased to be separated from her, trying to follow him outside but having the opening blocked by his knights. At the sound of their loud hisses, he was glad that Arthur had taken measures to distant everyone from the scene.

When he walked outside, he noticed that a few tents had been raised far away from the smoke and ruins of the scorched inn. He recognized Darry Castle’s maester standing by one so he made his way to him with long hastened strides.

The old man pulled the small pavilion’s entrance open as soon as he saw him approaching, a worried look crossing face when he glanced at the unconscious princess.

Rhaegar gently placed his wife on the makeshift bed of furs and coverlets, careful with the wound on her head.  Her brothers followed inside, silent but tense.

“I shall uncover her to look for burns,” the maester said.

 The prince shook his head. “Check that gash on her scalp first.” He saw no burns on her body, or other serious wounds in general for that matter but for a few shallow scratches under her left collarbone.

The maester shifted Melelna’s hair aside and had a long look. “The wound itself doesn’t look serious, your grace,” he began encouragingly, “but I’ll have to shave a small patch of hair around the teared flesh to clean it. When she wakes, we should have a better idea of the extent of any internal damage that might have occurred. If you would be so kind as to give me some space, I will send word as soon as I’m finished.”

Rhaegar was reluctant to leave her side, but knew that he was of no help to his wife standing over the maester like a hawk. Amir and Vinar also looked to have come to the same conclusion, following him out.

Outside, he found Lord Jon along with his cousin waiting for him.

“How is the princess?” the Lord of the Eyrie asked at once.

“Alive,” Rhaegar managed. “The maester is yet to make a conclusion.” Their surprise that she’d survived was plain on their faces but none of them commented on it. “Do I have you to thank for keeping order while I was…indisposed, my lord?”

“Oh, it was nothing, your grace. Any man in your shoes would have had the same priorities if his wife was in such grave danger.”

“Even so, you have my deepest thanks,” Rhaegar said solemnly.

“Is she...alive?”

Rhaegar turned to find Ashara looking at him expectantly, Eddard Stark and lady Kathlyn close behind her with similar worried expressions on their faces.

“She is,” it was Vinar who’d answered her, sounding as dazed as Rhaegar was.

“My mother’s not with you?” Amir broke in, addressing the dornish woman.

For a second, Rhaegar was confused, but then he remembered that as far as the world was concerned, Elyse was Amir’s mother–and considering how he behaved around her, for all intents and purposes, she was.

Ashara lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Amir. We didn’t see her.”

Melelna’s half-brother gave a weak nod. “I thought that one of the corpses inside Mel’s room was probably her, but I wanted to be certain,” was all he said before he abruptly turned and walked back towards the inn.

Vinar looked torn for a second, glancing between the pavilion and Amir’s retreating form before he chose to follow his brother. Truth be told, Amir needed him more than his sister did in that moment.

“Both the princess and her brother are very close with her guard,” Lord Jon observed, no wonder noting the casual Amir referred to Melelna and how Vinar went after him even though his sister lay unconscious in a tent.

“They are,” Rhaegar had to admit. “They grew up together,” he said as way of explanation, not being able to come up with a clever lie.

He was saved from having to concede more when Lady Genna approached, her niece by her side. “Prince Rhaegar,” lord Tywin’s sister said sadly, “we’ve been most distressed about our sweet princess. Pray, how is Her Grace?”

More lords and ladies gathered around and Rhaegar had to repeat to them what the maester had told him, sounding as confident as he could master with everything considered–all the while his thoughts jumping between his wife and the three newly hatched dragons.

The last dragon of his house had died more than century ago and every time one of his family attempted to bring the creatures back ended it in tragedy and disaster. He would know; he was born during one such tragedy. As far as he was aware, Melelna did not have any hopes of hatching the eggs. So how did it happen? Why now? _She was however unnaturally attached to them._

The more he thought about it, the harder his head seemed to throb. When he began feeling as if palfreys were stomping in his skull, he made his excuses and sat back against a tree near his wife’s pavilion to wait for the maester to come out.

The comet was still blazing bright up in the sky and Rhaegar couldn’t help but lift his gaze to it, wondering about its meaning. Was it a herald for the birth of the dragons? Or did it have a deeper meaning? The prince couldn’t tell.  

Lord Jon approached, then settled on a rock next to Rhaegar. For a while the older man did not speak, until he glanced around and quietly said, “There is a high possibility that your wife will not be able to make the trip to Riverrun after all.” _But are you making it?_ Rhaegar heard the question in his words.

Melelna was definitely not attending lady Catelyn’s wedding. Of that much, the prince was certain. He had a feeling that the moment she opened her eyes, the first thing she will look for is the dragons. And judging by how adamant she was not to be separated from them when they were no more than lifeless eggs, the Gods only know how she’ll react to any talk of leaving them behind now.

“Do I have a choice?” Rhaegar asked in return of the unspoken question.

“May I be blunt, your grace?” At Rhaegar’s nod, he continued, “If you truly wish to go through with what we talked about, you do not. The princess could wait for your return at Dragonstone.”

That would’ve been a good plan, if it wasn’t for the dragons. Not that he would be comfortable leaving her at the island-fortress alone either way. The prince has not stepped foot on Dragonstone in years, and should a royal command come from King’s Landing for the princess to be shipped to the capital along with the hatchlings, Rhaegar couldn’t be certain of whose orders his castellan would be compelled to obey.

_What do I do with the bloody dragons?_ Taking them with him was out of the question, not when they are so small and vulnerable. He glanced at the man next to him, considering how much he dared tell him. How could he hide the creatures and go to Riverrun at the same time? With what protection would he leave his wife? _I cannot do this alone,_ he grudgingly realized. _I will have to trust someone in the end and Lord Arryn is as honourable as any man in the seven Kingdoms._

“My lord,” Rhaegar began, against his better judgment, “there is something I want to show you.”


	21. Chapter XX| Blame

**_Rhaegar_ **

The Lord of the Eyrie gave a slight nod. “What is it that you wish to show me, Your Grace?”

 _Only three newly hatched dragons that I need you to help me hide._ “It would be difficult to put it into words, my lord. Perhaps it’d be better if you–”

Rhaegar’s attention immediately shifted to the tent entrance flapping open. He pushed himself to his feet, dragons and politics forgotten as he approached the maester.

The prince didn’t like the plain disquiet in the old man’s cloudy eyes. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“There is no need for concern, Your Grace,” the maester began, avoiding Rhaegar’s gaze. “I have cleaned the wound and dressed it with soaked bandages. Now all we can do is wait for the princess to wake up. I left her with the maids that came down from Darry with me to wash the ash off her body and sent one to find garments for her.”

“Then why do you look so troubled?”

The maester glanced uneasily between Lord Jon and the prince. “The princess only has that one single serious wound. I…”

“Those are good news, maester,” Jon Arryn broke in. “Why deliver them with such grimness?”

“Beg your pardon, my lords. Of course I’m happy for the princess. It’s only that…I don’t understand.”

Rhaegar frowned. “You don’t understand what?”

“How it is that she only has that wound, Your Grace.” The old man fiddled his wrinkled hands. “If I may be so bold, where did the princess hide to avoid the flames?”

The prince kept his face blank. He had no answer for the maester. But to let them make speculations wouldn’t be prudent, he knew. Melelna’s Essosi blood was foreign to Westeros, and ignorant minds were always quick to brand what they could not understand as witchcraft. “In the cellar. Bellow earth,” he lied. “I would like to see her now.” He gave him no time to forge a reply, moving past him towards the tent.

The maids paused when he entered but he motioned to them to resume washing her. Rhaegar walked around the makeshift bed, lowering himself on the floor by Melelna’s face. Half her head was covered by linen bandages but there was a tranquil feel to the way she looked in sleep.

Rhaegar gently stroked her cheek, willing her to wake up–to give him answers. _Aemon would know what to make of things,_ he thought. But his great-granduncle was half a world away and his wife didn’t so much as stir.

He waited by her side until the women cleaned her with soaked washcloths and garbed her in a long-sleeved shift since Melelna’s own clothes have all been lost to the fire. “Bring me the Ladies Dayne and Allyrion,” he told them when they finished.

Rhaegar left his unconscious wife with her dornish friends and posted two guards outside the small pavilion with strict orders to come to him the moment she opens her eyes. He had to deal with the dragon situation–and quickly. Under different circumstances he would have been delighted to see the creatures reborn into this world, their great power once again under the control of his house. Part of him was in truth thrilled at the turn of events, except… _If any word of this reaches the ears of my father_ … His royal sire was fond of roasting men with wildfire; only Gods knew what horrors he would rain upon this land with three fully-grown dragons.

He found Lord Jon with Eddard Stark, speaking in hushed tones. They quieted when they saw him nearing but Rhaegar thought that he might have heard them say Lady Ashara’s name.

“My lord,” he said to the older man, “would you walk with me?”

“I should go and find Robert,” the Stark offered and left to do just that.

As they neared the inn’s entrance Rhaegar noticed Arthur giving one of the men he had guarding the building orders, his features twisted in anger.

“What is it?” he asked his Kingsguard as he watched the guard hastily mount his horse before galloping towards the camp.

“Two of our own guards that were supposedly guarding the entrance near the staircase last night are nowhere to be found. They aren’t among those who’d fled the inn, nor did we find any more bodies. And…”

“And?” Rhaegar prompted, impatiently.

“I had a look at the corpses inside. Your Grace will not like what I found.” Arthur paused, briefly glancing at Lord Jon by Rhaegar’s side.

“Speak freely,” the prince told him.

“Our guard on the staircase and the two outside the princess’s door had arrow tips buried in their throats.”

“They were already dead before the fire scorched their bodies…” That explained the odd placement of the corpses but what it implied shot a new wave of rage through Rhaegar’s veins.

“Aye,” his Kingsguard confirmed. “And one of the bodies in your wife’s room was laying on top of a dagger.” Arthur produced the weapon and held it out for the prince’s inspection.

 Rhaegar recognized it at once. How couldn’t he? He had only given it to her before they had left to go after the damn boar. Blade and dragon-shaped grip were both covered in dried blood–she’d used it. “Do we have any idea about who the dead man is?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, but I sent men after the missing guards. Whoever he is, they let him inside. I doubt this fire was part of it. Something must’ve gone awry with his plan.”

 _Melelna stabbing him most like._ “Find them. Offer gold for their capture, not silver.”

Lord Jon had a horrified expression on his usually calm face. “Who would wish to do the little princess harm?”

“That’s what I mean to find out,” Rhaegar answered and walked inside the darkened building. He paused at the staircase and glanced back at the man following him. “I tried to think of words to prepare you of what I’m about to show you, my lord, but I’m afraid that I’ve failed at finding any. I do however need you to swear that you are not to share any of what you are about you see–under any circumstances.”

The Warden of the East gave him a quizzical look but finally nodded. “On my honour as an Arryn.”

Jaime was standing guard at the opening to their room and the sight of him caused Rhaegar’s jaw to clench. _She could have died and it would have been his fault, but what do I do with him now?_ His father had given very specific commands regarding Lord Tywin’s son. King Aerys was content to send the Lannister with them as far as Riverrun since the image of Lord Tywin’s once heir running after the princess in view of half the realm amused him, but he wanted Jaime returned to the capital when the royal couple left for Dragonstone. Rhaegar did not dare send him back with all he’s seen. Nor did he trust him guarding Melelna, however.

“Where are Vinar and Amir?” he asked.

The prince’s feelings towards Melelna’s sworn shield must’ve shown in his voice because Jaime shifted uncomfortably before saying, “They are digging graves by the stream for the princess’s handmaid and her two guards, Your Grace.”

 _Belio and Aren_ , Rhaegar realized. Those two along with Amir were her favourites…and Elyse…The prince dreaded the moment he would have to tell her of their passing. “Go and help them,” he told Jaime. “Then bring them back here.”

The Lannister bowed and left to do as he was bid.

He spied the woven basket by a blackened stone wall, a dark cloak half draped over it. The room was quiet when they entered; not a single sound coming from the hatchlings, but as soon as they neared, a shriek came from their temporary prison, the basket slightly shifting.

He looked at Lord Jon, waiting for a reaction. The man hesitated at the door for a moment, glancing between the prince and the basket. Rhaegar said nothing, only undraped it and waited for the other man to join him.

All three of them quieted and gazed up at Rhaegar expectantly when he stood over the basket.

 _“Gods be good,”_ he heard Lord Arryn exclaim from behind him. “These are…”

“…dragons,” Rhaegar finished for him.

“H-how?”

Rhaegar gestured towards broken shells of their eggs at the other end of the room. “They hatched,” he said simply.

“Your wife’s eggs? But those were stone.” Jon Arryn’s eyes abruptly widened. “Does your father know?”

“No,” Rhaegar assured him, “and I mean to keep it that way. With your help, my lord.”

“M-my help? If the King finds out he is going to demand–”

“That is why we have to make certain he does _not_ find out.”

“These creatures…when they grow…” he hesitated. “Perhaps it would be best if you…”

“ _No_.” Rhaegar understood what he was hinting at. “The dragons were send back to this world for a reason. No harm will come to them while I still live.”

The other man rubbed at his temples. “Send? By who?”

“Is not everything the work of the Gods? The Gods decided to protect my wife and also give her this rare gift. Who am I to take it away? I found Melelna right there.” Rhaegar pointed at the spot in question. “She should’ve burned along with the rest, yet she did not, and those three were protecting her unconscious body the way children would protect their own mother. You saw the comet, my lord. Can you honestly tell me that you truly believe this all to be a mere sequence of coincidences?”

“A burning rock in the sky–”

“That happened to appear at the same night that dragons were being reborn into this world? There is a bigger plan at play here, my lord. Something beyond my control or yours. The question remains however. Will you help me?”

The other man did not have a chance to reply however because Vinar came bursting into the room, as angry as Rhaegar has ever saw him. “Two of our best men are dead,” he announced, “and so is the woman we all regarded as a second mother.” He stared at Rhaegar with eyes so cold, they might as well have been dripping ice. “And it’s all your fault.”

“You will watch your tongue.” Rhaegar understood Vinar’s pain and worry but there was only so much insolence he could take from him in that moment. “To blame me for this is absurd.”

“From what she’s told me, this is the second time she’s been attacked while under your _protection_. If my father knew, he’d command me to put her on a ship and send her straight back to Volantis.”

“She belongs to me now,” Rhaegar snapped at him. “Not you or your father.”

“And should it come to war? What then?”

“War?” the prince frowned.

“All due respect, your grace,” Vinar spat at him, “but I’ve seen your royal sire. Can you honestly swear to me that there is no possibility of him bringing an army upon you when you call this _council_?”

The prince was surprised. “She told you then? When?”

“My sister has no secrets from me. I will not risk her becoming collateral damage in one of your family conflicts. What do you reckon our father would have done if he heard that his only daughter was murdered here? Never forget who we are, Targaryen.” The threat in his words was plain but Rhaegar chose to ignore it.

 “Your sister is not a Vhassar anymore,” he reminded him. “My family conflicts became her own the day that she married me. This is much more serious than that, however.”

“My father needs to be told,” Vinar said matter-of-factly. “About the attempts on her life and your plans regarding your own father both. He will be the judge of what he does with that information.”

“I cannot risk writing such a letter when it could fall in the wrong hands.”

“True,” Vinar agreed. “Thus why I will be the one doing the writing. I doubt I’m as closely watched as you are and besides, I need not write any details of what you are planning. All my father needs to know is that his only daughter has been harmed and that there is a storm brewing in this country.”

“And the dragons?” Rhaegar would rather not have that piece of information out in the open just yet.

“I see no reason to tell him about the dragons,” Vinar conceded. “I don’t even think he’d believe me if I did.”

_“Where are they?”_

All three men turned towards the sound.

Arthur, who must’ve carried her up the stairs, lowered her to the ground but she still appeared to need his assistance to keep herself standing. She was wearing a rope over the shift and her beautiful lilac eyes looked tired and moist.

“Where are they?” Melelna asked again, her voice slightly shaking.

As if to answer her, all three dragons shrieked and pushed against the basket’s walls until it fell sideways and they were freed before hastily making their way towards their human mother.

 


	22. Chapter XXI| Him.

**_Rhaegar_ **

Her knees slightly shook but Arthur was quick to gently take hold of both her arms to keep her standing.

Rhaegar took over holding her while his Kingsguard unfastened his pale cloak to spread it on the dirty floor underneath.

“You shouldn’t have gotten up,” the prince told his wife as he lowered her on the white woolen sheet.

He sat down with her, letting her rest her upper body on his torso. Three hatchlings were quick to join her; both the azure and golden ones settled on her lap but the crimson one stopped by her thigh, its body turned towards the men. _He’s guarding her,_ Rhaegar realized as he noticed the dragon’s yellow gaze uneasily jump between the people in the room.

“Melelna?”

 No answer.

“Love?” he asked again, worried.

She weakly turned her head and blinked up at him, her eyes unclear. “I’m all right,” she managed.

“No, you are not,” Vinar argued. “I’ll fetch some water.” Her brother hastily left to do just that.

“Ashara and Kathlyn helped her to the inn,” Arthur explained. “My sister said that she insisted to be brought here at once.” He was looking at the creatures around Rhaegar’s wife with awe as he talked.

He gestured for the two men to leave the room but bid Lord Jon to wait for him in his pavilion.

“You don’t know how happy I am that you are awake,” he told her when they were alone. “But you should’ve waited in your tent. You are still too weak, my love.” He risked permanent scarring by pulling her tighter against him, savouring the touch. Thankfully, none of the dragons seemed alarmed by his movement.

“I had to see,” she whispered. “I had to make sure they were real.”

She was talking about the hatchlings, Rhaegar knew. He wanted to ask her what had happened–how the eggs hatched, but she looked so pale and fragile.

“Let me help you back to the pavilion so you can rest,” he offered gently.

“No,” she said at once. “I want to stay with them.” One of her hands was resting on the blue dragon’s slender neck, the other on the creamy golden hatchling’s scales. It was the crimson one she kept glancing at, though.

“Please,” she pleaded when he made to object. “Please, Rhaegar. If love me as you say you do, don’t take them from me.”

A hand squeezed his heart at the panic reflected in the lilac pools of her eyes, but even so, she had to understand. “Mel…we need to have a talk about this–quite a long one, actually–but not now. Nothing will happen to them, I promise you, but my priority in this moment is your health.”

“I’m–”

“–pale, dizzy and tired,” he finished for her, not unkindly. “You…you almost died. For a moment this morning, I truly thought you were lost to me.” _And I felt terror worse than anything I’ve ever felt before._ “I _need_ you to go back to your bed. I _need_ you to heal.”

She hesitated but finally gave a weak nod. “W-what’s going to happen to them?” She extended her arm towards the crimson one. When it accepted her touch, she stroked the front of its neck.

“I imagine they are hungry,” Rhaegar said. “I need to find a way to move them out of this building without anyone noticing, but for now I’ll see that they get some roasted meat.” He remembered reading that dragons preferred their food cooked somewhere. The last Targaryen dragon may have died more than a century ago but his ancestors were dragonlords since the days of Old Valyria. A lot of knowledge about the creatures is still safely documented in their family libraries.

Vinar returned with the water and helped Rhaegar to gather the hatchlings back in their basket. They were much more compliant when Melelna was around it seemed, barely putting up a fight. As soon as Rhaegar gathered her in his arms and made to walk out, however, they hissed and screeched their displeasure.

Melelna looked pained to leave them, tightly shutting her lids and burying her face in the crook of Rhaegar’s neck. She was too weak to make any protests however, which caused Rhaegar to alarmingly hasten his strides.

He ordered Arthur to go upstairs and keep an eye on the dragons as he passed by him, then noticed Amir and Jaime approaching from the forest side but didn’t wait for them to catch up. Both men came running towards him when they spotted Melelna, once again, mostly unconscious in his arms.

“I’m taking her back to the maester,” he told them when they were close. “She shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.”

“When did she wake?” asked Amir. “Why is she out here?”

He gave them the short version of events and let them escort him back to the tent. Melelna was out by the time he gently lowered her on the bed and the maester came rushing in, furious that she had left her blankets.

Thankfully, there was nothing worrying about her state; exhaustion was to be expected for a few days.

The prince brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Make sure she stays here when she wakes this time,” he told her dornish ladies-in-waiting. “I’ll be just outside.”

Vinar followed him out, but Amir stayed inside with his sister. She hadn’t asked for Elyse yet, but the next time she wakes, she probably will. Rhaegar would rather have Amir there when that happened.

“I need ink and parchment,” Melelna’s brother said when they were a safe distance away from the others.

Rhaegar nodded, “I’ll have some send to you later. What are you going to write?” Not that he wouldn’t inspect the letter first.

“I told you,” replied Vinar as they stopped by the river.

“No specifics.”

“No specifics,” he repeated. “I’m going to have to assure him that Mel is safe, elsewise…”

The prince did not like the sound of that. “Elsewise?”

“He might come himself to make sure she’s unharmed. For all his flaws, he goes crazy where her safety is concerned.”

Rhaegar glanced at him, confused. “Your father? Wouldn’t it be catastrophic for him to leave Volantis during elections?”

“No, not my father. Our brother, Nyessos,” the other man said.

He had almost forgotten that his wife had another brother; Mel must’ve mentioned him only once or twice and he never heard Vinar nor Amir speak his name until today.

Rhaegar had a sudden disquieting thought. He glanced at Vinar, keeping his manner casual. “Do the Vhassars still practice old Valyrian customs?”

“Which customs?”

“The Gods, rituals…” He hesitated. “Marriage within the family?”

Vinar’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Just answer the question,” said the prince, impatiently. “I have my reasons.”

“In some ways, yes,” the other man began reluctantly. “Many in Old Volantis still follow the Old Religion, us included, and there have been some marriages ‘within the family’ as you put it, but the last one must’ve been almost a century ago.”

“Why is that?” he prompted.

Vinar gave a shrug. “Priorities changed, I suppose. Such marriages are not beneficial for the family vault. Alliances became more favourable and there was never a shortage of noble blood to choose from in Volantis.” 

“Your father did not marry within Old Volantis,” Rhaegar pointed out.

Another shrug. “When you are one of the richest men in the city, you do as you please. Besides, anyone who’s met my mother could tell you that you only had to take one look at her and you’d know that Valyrian blood was running through her veins; the same as many others in Lys.”

Rhaegar nodded, that much was true. “A brother wedding his sister wouldn’t be looked down upon within your family then?”

Vinar’s discomfort was evident now. “What are you asking, Your Grace? Is this about any children you might have with my sister? Are you concerned that she might protest should you wish they wed?”

No, but that was something he might need to think about. “Would she protest, do you think?”

Vinar considered him for a second before answering, “I’m not sure. It’s not unheard of for us but I don’t think she would be completely comfortable with the idea either.”

“Does she have any specific reason to be against it? From personal experience, perhaps?”

“Are you suggesting…” He frowned, then scowled at Rhaegar. “I’m not interested in my sister that way,” snapped the Volantene.

Rhaegar watched his face carefully. “No, but your brother is.” Vinar’s eyes widened but he did not speak, so the prince added, “Are you not going to deny it?”

“Mel told you?” he asked, then immediately realized his mistake and cursed. “No, I just bloody did.”

 _Her brother killed her betrothed_ , he realized with a start. No wonder she would not give up his name. But that was not the only thing he did to terrorize her. The day she had assured him that he hadn’t forced himself on her, there was also something she did not say, Rhaegar was certain. Something he did that scarred her. “She is terrified of him,” he said accusingly. “What did he do to her?”

“I’m not certain I should…Our brother has always been protective of her, but…”

“But?”

“When our father betrothed her to Lysandro, he was furious. He said that the match was beneath us. Lysandro’s family was rich enough and had considerable influence in the Free Cities, but no Valyrian descent. Nyessos was always more of a tiger than an elephant, we all knew, so his outrage came as no surprise. I should have seen–listened to her…” There was pain in Vinar’s eyes.

 _Listened to her?_ “She told you?”

“She…” he shook his head. “There were signs, I just never thought…”

“Signs of what?” Rhaegar didn’t let his impatience show. Now, that he had him talking he intended to keep him doing so.

“Mel had her personal slave servants since we were kids, but she never kept any entertainment slaves–musicians, fools, singers, that kind of thing,” he rushed to explain at Rhaegar’s harsh look. “There was a female singer, actually. A Lyseni young girl who praised the Love Goddess in her songs. Melelna was fond of her, I recall.” Vinar frowned. “Then she abruptly dismissed her. I didn’t think much of it then, Mel was always happiest in her chambers with her brushes and paints.” He gave a humourless chuckle. “Nyessos was probably responsible for the singer’s sudden departure and my sister’s tendency to keep to her rooms both. Now that I think about it, the lack of any slaves of that sort around her was likely his doing too.”

This man has dictated Melelna for her whole life, and neither Vinar nor his father did anything to stop it? “Why did you not interfere?” he asked angrily. “Why would your father allow this?”

“You don’t understand,” the Volantene said defensively. “Nyessos was never cruel to her, quite the opposite actually. He doted on her since we were children. He was never kind or particularly talkative, but he was with her. He brought her gifts; paints from the far ends of the jade sea, birds from the Summer Isles, he even got her a tiger cub when she turned twelve but mother quickly forbade that she keeps the animal for fear that it would attack her when it was bigger. He’d never expressed any desire to wed her, or shown any signs that he wanted her that way, though.”

Rhaegar wondered how the late lady Minesa Vhassar would feel if she was alive to see her daughter stroking living dragons. “So your brother’s never hurt her?” he asked, doubtful.

The regret in his gaze was enough to confirm the prince’s suspicions. “What did he do to her?” he asked for a second time, letting his anger show.

Surprisingly, the normally quick-tempered man did not snap back at him. Instead, he shamefully lowered his gaze. “I did not know,” Vinar began in a sincere tone, “not until your messenger came with the marriage proposal. Father at first intended to send both of us to attend the wedding, but my brother cracked at seeing that letter. You are the Crown Prince of Westeros; my father was delighted at the prospect of his daughter marrying into royalty and there was nothing Nyessos could say against such a match…so, he raged.” He shook his head. “Well, until that moment, neither my father nor I had ever even suspected that Nyessos intended to wed my sister. It all clicked into place then. Had I known what he was doing to my little Mel, do you think I would have ever left her alone with him?”

Melelna had told him that Vinar was away from Volantis for four years. Her father was there, to be sure, but as a Triarch he likely spent most of his time away from his palace, which would’ve left her alone with Nyessos more often than not. “She swore to me he never…touched her, but he did do something to terrorize her, of that much I’m certain. I want to know what.”

Vinar gazed at the running water. He did not speak for a while, causing Rhaegar to think that he would not answer, but then sighed and turned back to him. “Have you ever seen Amir’s backside?”

Rhaegar frowned. He recalled seeing Melelna’s half-brother once or twice without a shirt. His back was completely covered by fading scars and pink gashes. Whipping was a common form of chastisement in the Free Cities so he did not think it proper to ask questions.

“What of it?” the prince asked.

“I don’t know everything he did while I was away, but if I had to take a wild guess at which of his acts terrorized my sister the most, I can tell you with certainty that commanding that whipping was it. She didn’t tell me much about, other than it’s happened, but I asked Amir.” His eyes grew hard, the pain replaced by fervent anger. “We grew up with Amir, did she tell you?” He did not wait for an answer. “Before our father was elected Triarch, our family mostly lived in our summer palace in Lys. I, Mel and our mother never left the islands, even though our father often returned to Volantis for moons at a time to serve his own father and his election campaigns. Nyessos accompanied him in those trips, so he never really got to know Amir–not like we did.

“We didn’t always know that he was our brother; when we were little, we only knew him as Elyse’s son, but even then we loved him as if he was our blood. Elyse was always with us, and our mother doted on the boy; always bringing him to the beach, addressing him by name and giving him gifts. When we moved to Volantis, mother was devastated to leave him behind but she didn’t dare bring him inside the black walls yet, so she waited for a year before summoning her handmaid from the lyseni palace. My father…he never did think much of slaves. He barely acknowledged their presence other than to command them, but mother was his weak spot.” Vinar’s lips curved into a sad smile. “If it bothered him that his wife treated a slave servant and her whelp better than she treated most nobles, he never said so. Mother was ever in Elyse’s company and Mel was ever trailing after mother, so she quickly grew very close to Amir. She took over mother’s role in protecting him when she died, young as she was, getting him a spot in her personal guard as soon as she could without raising suspicion.” His mouth fell again and he uncomfortably swallowed. “Amir said that Nyessos made her watch as he was being whipped. She saw all of it, and never left his side while he was recovering. It took three full turns before Amir was strong enough to leave his bed.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened. “Did…did he know Amir is your blood?”

“Oh, he knew, alright,” Vinar all but growled.

“Why?” the prince pressed. “What had Amir done to anger him so?”

“I answered your question,” Vinar told him. “The rest is not my story to tell. Speak with my sister.”

The prince gave a respectful nod, but said, “Your brother is not welcome here. Not now, not ever.”

The Volantene looked content with that. “Agreed.”

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter XXII | Crossroads

_**Rhaegar** _

His wife slept for most of the day, but even so, between secretly feeding the dragons and convincing Lord Jon not to betray what he saw, Rhaegar barely had a moment to breath before Amir came rushing to report that Melelna was awake.

She was alone in the tent when he entered, a single a brazier burning by her bedside. The sun had retreated a couple of hours ago but the comet in the sky still burned bright red.

"My love," he murmured after he sat down on her bed. "How do you feel?" She looked better than she did last time he saw her; some colour returned to her cheeks. He spotted a bowl of half eaten soup on a small table near her blankets.

"Confused," she said hesitantly. "Rhaegar…did…did it all really happen?"

His mouth curved into a sad smile. "Yes," he confirmed, squeezing her hand.

"The dr–"

"You mustn't speak of that now," he interrupted gently, "It could be . . . dangerous for them. Do you understand?"

She considered him for a second, then comprehension reflected in her gaze, soon replaced by that determined look she had when he'd jested about someone stealing her eggs. Rhaegar was relieved to see it–the fight in her eyes. The prince thought he could no longer be shocked, not after all he's witnessed in his father's court . . . but the frailty she'd showed since coming back to her senses woke a new breed of overwhelming fear deep in his gut.

The Prince had never once imagined that he had it in him to feel an emotion as joyful as love. As far back as he could remember himself, he'd always been on a path. A path he barely understood but accepted, nonetheless, because no man can escape his destiny.

But now things were different–now there was also  _her_.

And she was everything.

Melelna pushed herself to a proper sitting position. "Amir was here when I woke," she said, "but he wouldn't meet my eyes, then he left to get you." She frowned, two tiny lines appearing between her pale brows. "Where is Vinar, Rhaegar? And Elyse, why is she not attending me?"

"Your brother is in my tent," he began carefully. Vinar was writing the letter to Lord Vhassar but he saw no reason to inform her of that right now. "I'm certain he shall appear as soon as he hears that you are awake." He paused, unsure of how to approach the subject of her handmaid. Deciding that there was no easy way to tell her this he continued, "I'm sorry, my love, Elyse is no longer with us."

She only blinked at him and for a moment Rhaegar thought that she hadn't heard him. "Dead? How?" she finally whispered, barely audible.

"The fire . . . Melelna, what do you remember about last night?"

She stared at him, memories dancing in the amethyst of her eyes. "That terrified boy came asking for Jaime," she began, then frowned. "I waited for them to return with Elyse but after a while a man . . . he just walked into my room." She rubbed at her temples, looking pained. "It's all fuzzy after that."

She carefully reached up and touched a hand to the linen bandage around her head. "Aren and Belio were standing guard outside my door so I called for"–her eyes widened as they found him–"where are my guards, Rhaegar?"

It took him a second to speak but she must've glimpsed the answer on his face, for her mouth was trembling as she fought back tears.

He climbed into the bed with her and curled his arms around her body, mindful of her injury. Rhaegar wished he could afford to give her the time to mourn in peace, but it wasn't safe for either of them to linger. So when her sobs had quieted, he said, "We have to move on the morrow–likely at dawn." In which direction, he still didn't know. Even after taking every precaution, word about the dragons could still reach his father–for all his lavender perfumes and soft silks, Varys could be a scary thing. That made Dragonstone a very dangerous option close as it was to King's Landing. He'd die before he handed the dragons over to his father, or let his wife anywhere near him for that matter. If the King hears of what has happened, he would likely try to replicate the event, killing Mel in the process. But where else could he send her? Back to Volantis?

She blinked up at him, something missing in her gaze. "Where to?"

Alarm tugged at all his senses. There was too much submission in that tone–too much numbness. "I still have to go to Riverrun," he said. "Does that upset you?"

She ignored his question. "Where are their remains?"

Vinar chose that moment to walk through the flap of the tent. The Volantene didn't even glance in the prince's direction, going on his knees on the floor by his sister's side of the bed.

Melelna repeated the question, directed to her brother this time.

Vinar swallowed. "Mel . . . why don't you tell me how you are feeling first?"

She shook her head and made to rise but Rhaegar halted her efforts by tightening his hold. "You are still too weak and we don't have a lot of time at our disposal. You need to rest, even if only for a few more hours." He hated to use that tone on her, the tone that reminded her that he was the Crown Prince of Westeros as well as her husband but judging from the determination in her eyes, nothing else would've worked.

His heart clenched at the hurt in her eyes, compelling him to add, "I promise that you shall give them a proper farewell before we leave."

Her shoulders slumped, gaze low, but she made no protests.

Vinar rose to his feet. "May I have a moment with my sister, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar did not want to leave her, not with this profound disquiet hanging between them, but he did. Her brother shared her grief for those she lost, and he had to prepare for their departure. The faster they moved, the safer she would be.

He intended to seek out Lord Jon but the older man found him first halfway to his tent. "How is your wife feeling, Your Grace?"

"Her injuries are healing," Rhaegar said, "but she grieves for the people she lost."

Lord Arryn gave a nod, then said, "May we continue this conversation in the privacy of my pavilion?"

Rhaegar followed him silently, all the while considering what was his best course of action. His gaze flicked up to the comet.  _I must write to Aemon soon,_ he decided. Then, something dawned on him.  _The Watch takes no part._  And Aemon would see that even if the worse came to pass, Melelna could still take a ship to Essos from Eastwatch-by-the-sea.

But did he dare to send her on such a long journey with such uncertain outcome? Did he dare to risk the dragons?

He spoke his thoughts out loud when they were in Lord Jon's tent, the man listening patiently until he finished, but he did not seem to agree with the idea.

"Your Grace," he began respectfully, "I have no doubt that Maester Aemon would welcome your wife and convince the Lord Commander to offer her protection, but as you have said, the journey to the wall is a long one and perilous, especially for a wounded woman and three newly born dragons."

Rhaegar ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "If I send her to Dragonstone and word about the dragons reaches my father…"

"…your castellan may betray you and hand her over, I know."

"If I was a better man I would send her back to Essos until this is over," Rhaegar found himself saying, "but I can't." Not only because he would never trust the dragons with anyone so far away from him and his people, but also because part of him was terrified that with all that's happened, she may wish to never return. He could not lose her. If that made him selfish, so be it.

Lord Jon sighed. "It is not a crime to love your wife, son, and to be loved in returned . . . most are not as blessed." He appeared to consider his next words. "I still do not think that the beasts should be allowed to live, but I accept that it is not my decision to make. I cannot allow that they fall in the hands of a man as . . . unstable as your father, however. And this attempt on the princess's life . . . it was a coward's work."

Rhaegar nodded. He had his own theories about who had hurt her but nothing that could be supported by anything more than wild speculations. His first instinct was to suspect his father's hand in this but he quickly dismissed that speculation when he had a moment to think clearly about what has happened. Everything pointed at a silent assassination gone wrong, not at all King Aerys's style. If his father caught a whiff of what Rhaegar had planned and meant to hurt him this way, he'd probably send the Kingsguard to drag him and his wife both back to the Capital for a public execution. No, his father did not have enough patience in him for something like this.  _One of his lickspittles might, however._

"The princess may wait for your return at the Eyrie," Lord Jon said solemnly. "No harm should come to her or the beasts for so long as they are inside my gates."

The prince was surprised at the suggestion, his eyes narrowing. He respected the lord in front of him, but that did not make him trust him with Melelna's safety. Rhaegar may be willing to put his own life in Lord Jon's hands but not his wife's.

His concerns must've shown on his face, for the man continued, "You may see a woman when you look at her, but what I see is a child–a most extraordinary child, yes, but a child nonetheless. I would not see children harmed if I can help it, isn't that why you mean to call this Great Council? To stop the torment of children?"

"My wife is not a child, my lord," Rhaegar said respectfully, "but I thank you for your concern for her safety."

"The Eyrie is not far from here and my people are loyal to me. They will not allow anyone beyond the Gates of the Moon without my allowance."

"Even if that person is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?" Rhaegar challenged.

"Not even then," Lord Arryn swore. "Not if he means to take the girl and the dragons to your father. I would gladly give my own life before I allow that to happen."

"You would go with her, then?" The prince would have a much harder time in Riverrun without Lord Jon's direct support but he was willing to take the chance if it meant Melelna would be safe.

The other man shook his head. "The princess's . . . accident is known, so her absence from the wedding can be explained. When she is noticed at the Eyrie, she will beyond danger's reach and horrible as it was, the attempt on her life could explain your reluctance to send her alone to Dragonstone when you have not been on the island for years. If I abruptly also return to my lands, however . . . it may raise suspicion."

"I mean no disrespect, my lord, but your men may be reluctant to follow your distant commands over those of the Lord Commander."

"That may be so," the man admitted, "but they will if Elbert escorts her. My nephew is an able lad, and my heir. I'm certain he will be saddened not to attend Brandon's wedding, but he will obey. He is already at Riverrun with the Starks, or he was as of this morning." At Rhaegar's confused look, he added, "I took the liberty of sending one of Darry's ravens to Riverrun, bidding Elbert to ride as swiftly as he can towards the Vale. If the Princess and her escort leave before dawn, he'll probably catch up with her party in a few days and escort her the rest of the way."

Rhaegar silently considered him. "You were certain I would accept your offer. Why?"

Lord Jon touched a wrinkled hand to the prince's shoulder. "Your priority will never be the Council for so long as she is in danger," he observed. "Your love for her is obvious and admirable but it could also be catastrophic for the realm should it distract you. I knew that you would not be willing to send her away and Dragonstone is too close to King's Landing."

"Jaime and her brother will go with her," Rhaegar said, "as will all her guards and some of my own." He promised to send Jaime back as soon as they left for Dragonstone, so technically he was not disobeying his father. Of course the King may not see it that way, and Jaime was not his favourite person at the moment, but Melelna trusted him and she would need familiar faces with her. He hoped that at the very least, what happened would serve as a lesson for the young Lannister, that he would never again make the same mistake.

"Her brother must ride with us," lord Jon argued.

 _Vinar?_  "Why?"

"Lord Hoster expressed his wish to meet the young man in the last letter he wrote to me. I do not know the reason but if you wish to acquire his support, I council that you explore that interest."

It would be hard convincing Vinar to part with his sister, but if it would somehow help him gain the Tully's support, Rhaegar would see that the Vhassar obeys. Melelna however . . .

He took a step towards the tent's exit. "I will speak with my wife. They leave before the sun comes up, under disguise."

As he walked under the bright slash in the sky, he prayed that she would forgive him for leaving her in such a time, that she would understand that he absolutely has to go if he was to have any hope of keeping her safe.


End file.
